Tiknesr keeps back a bit, wanting one of his sturdier companions between him and this stranger...just in case.
Meanwhile he eyes the blue-skinned humanoid. What on Golarion is he?
Master Th'th'th'th'slifp recognizes the creature as a mercane, planes-travellling purveyors of magical gods that are always honor their bargains. The deal only in rare items - anything magical. Mundane goods hold no interest. Typically they travel with guards, not being great warriors despite their size.
Kalt watches in some surprise as his theory is proven correct and the tiny figure inside grows to its proper size and rather unusual shape. He maintains his position between Zilvazaraat and the others. As is his habit, Kalt keeps quiet and looks to Sven, Shanya and Lana to do the talking, though he does his best to look friendly. Unfortunately, he just barely manages to look indifferent.
Zilvazaraat smiles broadly; his three vertical eyelids blink in rapid succession while his bilateral eyes widen with what one hopes is mirth. "Ah, he wanted to know all the places I have traveled to, all the places to find, ah, new, interesting slaves. In the gem it was easy for him to read my thoughts. Strange, perhaps, that he did not want my treasure..." the Mercane gestures and a metallic trunk appears solidly at his feet out of nowhere "...but those of the Dark Tapestry do no want what the more sensible beings among the stars want." The mercane's vertical eyes blink again.
"Well my friends, I must travel again. So many customers to see again... well, the ones who have not passed on in the intervening years. But perhaps you would like to do business?" Zilvazaraat waves his hand and the chest pops open. "Perhaps now, or in the future?" He holds out an obsidian raven as an offering to the heroes. "If you wish to trade, this will send a message to across the multiplicity of worlds."
His secret chest currently holds the following items (their prices are in parentheses): a +1 defiantUE (chaotic outsiders) mithral buckler (5,155 gp), a +1 darkwood composite longbow (+4 Str) (2,830 gp), an elemental gem (fire) (2,250 gp), an oil of bless weapon (50 gp), a ring of sustenance (2,500 gp), a stonemist cloakUE (3,500 gp), a scroll of searing light (375 gp), a scroll of elemental body I (700 gp), and a wand of see invisibility (38 charges) (3,420 gp).
OBSIDIAN RAVEN PRICE
15,000 GP
SLOT none CL 11th WEIGHT 1 lb.
AURA moderate conjuration and transmutation
This figurine of wondrous power is similar to a silver raven, but it can be used to send messages across the planes. On command, the figurine turns into a raven (retaining its stone-like consistency, which gives it hardness 8). Another command sends it off into the air, bearing a message as the sending spell (with no chance of the message not arriving). The recipient of the message can then use the obsidian raven to plane shift (self only) to the plane from which the message was sent. The figurine can be used in this way once per day. If not commanded to carry a message, the raven obeys the commands of its owner, although it has no special abilities, and it can maintain its non-figurine status for 24 hours per week (the duration need not be continuous).
CONSTRUCTION REQUIREMENTS COST 7,500 GP
Craft Wondrous Item, animate objects, plane shift, sending
"Why yes! It is easy as stepping between the veil between the worlds. It is a pity your kind cannot." it strokes its ears, frowning. "I suppose I will be on my way. Many customers wait for me in the many worlds! When you are ready to trade, you need but send a little bird my way!"
The creature begins to pack and close his chest, singing a song with definite structure but the tone of a shrieking axe beak. The mercane finds the noise pleasant, however.
A set of rungs climb up the chimney in this room, and the door leads back the way the group came.
Shanya absentmindedly nods in acknowledgement as she examines the raven figurine.
Sven finds the ladder inexplicably leads to a cozy wooden cabin. Shelves packed with esoteric knickknacks and strange ingredients line the walls. A stone fireplace with a large mantel takes up the room’s northwest corner, while opposite the room’s only door stands a simple wooden table on which rests a cracked clay bowl. A large blackened cauldron sits in the center of the room.
Upon the shelves lie a frost giant’s beard, plague doctor’s mask, dragon scale, and gold nugget. As Sven reaches the top rung, three shadowy, semi-translucent ravens begin to circle and caw.
“Baba Yaga has gone on, off to see her only son. But a trail she left behind, ifthe breadcrumbs you can find!” The ravens then swoop towards the crowded shelf, pulling off a number of items.
First, they take a stuffed two-headed eagle from a shelf, then place an iron spur and a drinking horn beside it.
Next, they take an elephant tusk and a small hand mirror and drop them atop a bearskin rug. The ravens then disappear, repeating their cryptic phrase a final time.
The ravens repeat their cryptic phrase before disappearing.
Beyond this spectacle, a magical ointment and habit sit on the shelves.
The thick windows on either side of the room show a view of snowy mountains, although strangely dim, and a wooden door leads outside to the unknown
Avora follows Sven down the ladder, hoping that he is right.
Kalt is puzzled about which way they should be going and asks about it, "Are the items they've just presented to us the breadcrumbs we're to follow? No, I guess we need to find the breadcrumbs. So the eagle and the tusk and such are more items for steering the hut where we want to go? These witches do not make things simple, do they?"
With a look at Tik, he adds, "You're the clever one, no? Better figure out what each of these things mean, could be important." He then joins the others in descending the ladder, eyes peeled for surprises.
"Hrmmm, puzzling indeedy." The Old Rat picks up each item in turn, turning it over in his soft pink hands.
Aroden pokes out of a pocket to sneer, "And by 'puzzling' you mean you're too dense to figure it out, eh?"
Tiknesr glowers at the man-faced ratling. "I didn't say that. now give an old man a minute to think in peace."
At the simplest level, it seems that the objects are likely a physical version of a rebus puzzle: ivory, glass, and bearskin in one pile, and the horn, spur, and double headed eagle being in the other.
But are the items places, people, or even the objects? It is clear that none are keys to the hut, but perhaps some of the keys look like some subset of the objects before you.
If the objects are supposed to be words in a sentence, diagramming that sentence is no mean feat without information. It seems likely that the two different piles are likely unrelated "sentences".
Zilvazaraat walks into the space between the worlds, slipping through a glowing portal. The heroeseventually pull the worg up the chimney and makes its way out into the snowy mountains outside. Ice crystals form on your breath.
The sun here looks small - only a third of its normal size given the time of day, and stars are in the sky even though the sun is high. Everything around you seems slightly... off.
"Where are we?" Avora manages to ask.
"I don't know, Avora," Kalt replies, studying their surroundings, "but it's no place I've ever seen."
"Well, I'm not really a student of geography...but why would the sun look so small?"
When Avora, Kalt and Tiknesr put their collective heads together, they puzzle out that a tiny sun could only come about as the result of great distance - much further away than Golarion ever is from Sarenrae's glowing face. This must be one of the famed other worlds that Baba-Yaga travels between.
There is little time to consider their situation further, however. Soon after stepping outside, a gliding beast and rider emerge from the dim, snowy sky. They circle about the emerging heroes - an armored, lance wielding figure astride a deep red draconic creature. The draconic creature itself holds a glaive in its hands.
The pair circle in the air above, clearly wary to approach closer.
"We're on another world?" Kalt says in amazement, studying his surroundings with some skepticism, as if looking for something to prove what they've guessed.
Before he finds anything to further convince him one way or the other, he spots the dragon and rider in the sky. He moves a hand to his new bow, but refrains from slipping it off his shoulder, instead saying quietly, "Is someone going to talk nice to our dangerous-looking friend up there, come to greet us to his world?"
"Huh?" Shanya finally looks up from the raven figurine and her jaw drops in surprise.
"...oh my."
She closes her mouth and wrinkles her nose, trying to clear her thoughts and focus on what she knows now. Seeing the dragon & rider circling them, she waves to them and speaks.
Here's hoping at least the rider's mount can understand...
"Drem yol lok!" She calls out, pocketing the raven figurine.
The draconic wheel suddenly at the greeting, turning about in a gentle arc before thumping down into the snow, hard.
The rider stares at the group a long moment before calling out again.
"F'tha? Kna fu lutha?" The rider continues for a few moments in the alien tongue. With time to observe, it is seen to be female and human-like, save for the soft blue fur covering its face (the only part exposed in its armor). Seeing that the language gets no response, the rider switches to Draconic.
(Draconic)"Greetings, strangers. By the authority of the Dragon Legion of Spurhorn, state your business in these lands. And speak true: do you fight for the Dragon Legion or the Drakelands?" She holds her lance both bravely and nervously, with a warrior's feigned nonchalance.
Shanya blinks in confusion. "Truth be told, we do not even know where we are, let alone who the Dragon Legion or Drakelands are. We have not picked either side."
She then turns to the others. "This one wishes to know what our business is here. What should I tell her?"
Shanya nods before turning back to the rider. "We have come here on the trail of the witch Baba Yaga. May I ask what world is this?"
Kalt nods in approval of Sven's suggestion, though he can't help but wonder a bit at the fact that they have to ask such questions. "Bit of a change from clearing brigands from a forest, being paid by a little lord looking to make a name for himself, eh, Bjornson? We don't even know what world we're on! At least it's nice and cool."
(Draconic)"Baba Yaga? I have never heard of her. And what do you mean "what world are you on? What manner of deceit is this?" The blue furred creature scowls.
The dragonkin mount seems to be staring at the dancing hut, clearly fascinated. It is only slightly surprising when it answers next, rather than its rider. (Draconic)"Greetings. My clutch calls me Efrixes, and my friend is Bescaylie - your friend here..." the scaled creature gestures up to the dancing hut "...is quite impressive. You rode it here all the way from another world? Oh... yes, welcome to Triaxus." The dragonkin smiles, something either friendly or predatory depending on one's interpretation.
The rider looks annoyed at the mount speaks, but holds her tongue.
Greta, silent for some time now, snorts into the evening air and joins in after Kalt's comment. "Fine weather - perfect for hunting. This whole place stinks of wyrms, though." She sniffs the air, warily. "I wonder how many of these lizards are about - never good to have too many meddlers nearby."
Avora shoots Greta a dangerous look, but says nothing.
Shanya nods in appreciation. "Our greetings, Efrixes & Bescaylie. We are the party of Shanya, Sven, Kalt, Avora, Lana, Tiknesr, and Greta." She points out everyone in turn.
She translates for the others as well.
Tiknesr nods in greeting, never really taking his eyes off of the dragon's teeth.
The blue furred creature scowls, clearly annoyed at her companions openness. Her Draconic hisses are especially aggressive.
(Draconic)"Efrixes, why do you indulge them! I do not recognize your accent, but you are from far away, I grant you that. You must come with me to the Legion's headquarters in Spurhorn."
The red dragonkin hisses a laugh, flame licking from its nose. "Oh forgive my clutch-sister - it is war you see, and you are unknown and therefore dangerous. But you are oh so interesting - I'm sure the commander would love to meet you. "
As Shanya carries on the conversation, Kalt studies the dragon and rider for any signs of deceit, though he finds it a challenge when he doesn't understand the language. Once he hears what they propose, he nods and says to his friends, "We know no one in this strange place, and we must learn something of where we are. It seems better to go with them than to fight them."
The Triaxan rider puts forth its demand again impatiently and forcefully.
(Draconic) "Will you come along peacefully for questioning then, Shanya and company? I must make it Spurhorn by tomorrow, and it is a day's journey by foot - unless that thing flies." Bescaylie gestures towards the Dancing Hut. "Commander Pharamol will want to meet you and - and you must prove your intentions to the masters of this land, before you may pass freely."
"We shall."
Shanya turns to the others and beckons for them to follow. "This one wishes for us to meet her commander."
"Well, let's go meet her commander," Kalt says agreeably, though the corner of his mouth hooks up in a wry smile as he adds, "funny that the dragon seems the more agreeable of the two, eh?"
The journey through the mountains is tiring but not overly arduous - although the skies are dim with the small sun they are clear and the way is free of the Drakeland patrols Bescaylie.
This is an alien planet, so difficult to say with certainty, but dropping air pressure, moving cirrus clouds and halo rings all portend a major storm in 48 hours.
Efrixes continues his friendly mannerisms - plying the heroes with questions of their home, their mission and travels. He even tries a few hissing words of the Common tongue of Golarion.
In turn, the dragonkin tells of the history and nature of Triaxus - summers that last five or six Triaxian generations, winters that last just as long, and the ebbing and flowing of world between the two extremes.
Efrixes speaks of the two great powers of the region - the Drakelands, ruled by dracon-led fiefdoms where common Triaxians are treated as little more than chattel, and of the Dragon Legionnaires of the Skyfire Mandate, a group of dragonkin and Triaxians dedicated to containing the expansion of the Great Wyrms in the eastern lands where the free Allied Territories hold sway. It is quickly apparent the dragonkin considers himself a patriot.
Besaylie frequently scowls, and she says a minimum of words during the trip.
The small path Bescaylie leads you down emerges to a high mountain ride, which overlooks a scene of war. A fortress lies atop a plateu with steep ice walls - an outer wall with eight towers surrounds five inner towers and a bailey with five integral towers. Crossbowmen stand at the walls and dragonkin mounted riders make tight patrols, careful not to expose themselves to easy fire from the ground below.
And well they might be cautious - for the skies and lands ringing the castle are dotted with several camps swarming with all manner of dragonkin, blue-furred humanoid Triaxians, and other assorted beasts. Huge multi-headed white draconic creatures slither along the ground, while a six legged black dragon sits alone on a leash - its fellow Drakeland soldiers give it a wide berth.
The Triaxian legionnaire curses at the sight (Draconic) "Damnable... the siege is far along; it's going to be near impossible to get entry with all these air patrols."
As Tiknesr’s abject animal panic at the dragon's predatory smile finally diminishes, Tiknesr finally starts to process what's going on.
He whispers, "Triaxus? An alien world?!? The Queen of Witches casts a far bigger shadow than I'd dreamed..."
As they travel, Tik eventually warms up to the dragon, answering the dragon’s questions about Golarion, and trying to learn as much as he can about Triaxus. He asks as well for the dragon to explain as much as he will about what exactly is the the source and history of the conflict.
Meanwhile, Aroden furtively lurks around their hosts, listening for any snippets of conversation in their alien tongue.
When they survey the area around the fortress, Tik points out the white cryohydra and the black half-dragon basilisk, and explains everything he knows about them.
Avora studies the clouds as they travel, concern clouding her features. "It's hard to say for certain, but I suspect a major storm event within the next two days," she says to no one in particular.
Bescaylie snorts once he hears Sven's words translated. (Draconic) "Power... land; the great wyrms of the Drakelands do not speak as one, this time, it is Yrax the great white wyrm who moves against the Allied Territories." The Triaxian points to the heraldry carried by the attacking army, a white dragon skull on a dark blue background. "The Allied Territories only wish their freedom."
On hearing this, Kalt remarks sardonically, "Well, it seems some things are consistent across worlds - some want power, and will stop at nothing to have it. It's a shame that's the common element among different countries, worlds, even creatures as different as me and Bescaylie."
He considers the dragon patriot a moment, then comments to Sven, "What do you think, Bjornson? For a long time we fought for whichever side had coin, recently we've been fighting for one witch against others. What would you say to a nice little war where we get to pick which side we back?"
He widens his gaze to take in the others, with a particularly significant look at Shanya, and continues, "Anyone?"
The dragonkin and rider keens their ears curiously at the tone of the discussion, although they clearly do not understand Kalt's usage of the common tongue.
Bescaylie sternly interrupts. (Draconic)"What is it you discuss? If we are to get inside, we will likely need you to fly, somehow. There is some sort of magic that can cause problems if you use magical movement, I think - wards of some sort, but I am no sorcerer to know such things. If we fly by night, the defenders are likely to mistake us for the drakeland forces, and fire upon us."
Bescaylie shakes his head in the negative when the message is relayed.
(Draconic)"We are on our own"
Tiknesr translates between Common and Draconic as he ruminates. "Hmmmm, yes, I can fly for up to ten minutes a day...but I don't relish the thought of how all those dragons react to a little rat morsel flying past...and I certainly can't fly as fast as a dragon." The Old Rat shudders.
"I do know the art of teleportation magic. It would take several trips--and I'd need to wait until morning to prepare the spells--but that's an option.
"Otherwise...what would it be like to skulk around along the ground? Kalt, do you think there's enough cover? Oooooh, or is there any underground option? There's nothing like the sight of a dragon to make me long for a dark little cavern. That's really more my style."
After a pause, he adds (in Common only) "Aroden here has the ability to Commune with our Patron in Shadows once a week. I'm not sure what the Patron would know about business on Triaxus, but we can certainly ask."
"I can fly," Avora says, "But I cannot carry anyone. Unless..." She pauses, thinking. "Aurora might be able to carry someone in her giant form, but I hesitate to use it. After only three such uses, the statuette becomes non-magical."
"Fair enough, Sven, we'll be as quick as we can about it," Kalt replies, "though we've still got to figure out how we're getting back to our own world."
When they come in sight of the dragon-besieged castle, Kalt sighs and says, "Well, so much for being quick about it. Nothing quick about a siege." He considers the questions and ideas of the others, and adds his own thoughts to the mix. "Going underground would be a hell of a challenge, Tik, if we're to make a tunnel big enough for Efrixes to travel through. I might be able to make my way overland to the castle undetected, Tik, though I wouldn't bet against a dragon-kin of some kind sniffing me out along the way. And once I'm there, I'm still not inside."
He scans the skies a while, then continues, "We aren't in any great rush, right? I say we try Tik's teleportation magic - unless these wards Bescaylie mentions would prevent it from working. Or...Tik's talk of sneaking gives me an idea. Do we have a way to turn ourselves invisible? I know nothing of such magic, but if we were invisible, we could fly - or perhaps even walk, carefully - up to the castle. But that may be wishing for too much."
He looks around at his companions, curious to hear if there's a better idea on how to get past the siege. And if we succeed, he thinks to himself, we will have managed to get ourselves into a besieged castle, and may well wish we hadn't.
"Invisibility sounds like a decent enough idea." Shanya purses her lips and surveys the battlefield. "Unfortunately, I only have two potions of invisibility on me..."
A quick survey of the grounds shows much of it to be solid ice - a daunting effort to tunnel through even in a Triaxian summer.
Bescaylie nods after hearing some translation of plans. "If you fly, I can take one other on Efrixes - that one" The Triaxan points his fingers at Lana. "Perhaps with this "magic statue" will be enough to fly everyone."