Straehan.'s page

Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC for 9 hrs
See Invisibility = for 80 mins
Invisibility = for 8 mins

Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC for 9 hrs
See Invisibility = for 80 mins
Invisibility = for 8 mins

Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC for 9 hrs
See Invisibility = for 80 mins
Invisibility = for 8 mins

Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC for 9 hrs

"Still, it has been my observation that a certain sort of power has a gravity, drawing those with it together, whether for conflict or cooperation. Perhaps this is why we have all arrived here together... but that is scarcely a hypothesis we can test."

The short sorcerer finds the idea intriguing. ”Not empirically - but we may be able to subjectively ‘test’ it none-the-less. If we find reason to stay together and we observe the challenges that befall us then compare them to the challenges others typically face here… perhaps it may point to the possible truth of your assertion. That could be fun.”

"This can work. Just let me know if heading for a tree or an open grave or something! Heh. So, what were you talking about next?"

Straehan ruminates, “The rules of ‘polite’ society suggest we discuss something we may all find interesting. Did the Widow tell either of you something fascinating?”

"I don't know what to expect in Limbo... I don't want to look backwards though… It's a new life, I want to live this one!"

Straehan smiles, ”An admirable intention.”

"There's that hint of steel behind the 'delightful' facade. You were 'someone' before death, were you not?”

The sorcerer chews on the question briefly. ”I’d say I’m ‘someone’ now… but I’d say the same of anyone - from serf to Saint. If you mean that I was someone of power or of importance before… my answer would be a HEAVILY-qualified ‘yes’. With ‘power’ being subjective, I would say that while I am somewhat diminished here… it is not so great that I feel a mere shadow of my former self.” He shrugs, "Was I 'powerful' then? It is a matter of opinion."

"Okay, that works too. I'm Amn! And I'm going to Limbo."

Drow Sign: :: Ok, we can use this one. Sorry I can't hear. I'm Amn* and going to Limbo. ::

Straehan enjoys the challenge of speaking and signing at the same time, particularly since Sakvoth wasn’t specifically created for deaf Drow but rather as a truly silent language. He tries his best to translate his words into the silent tongue, adding only one extra sentence in Sign.

Sakvroth (Drow Sign) :: Never apologize for who you are. ::

"…I was just about to tell my companion that words without definitions are self-evidently useless, so either he is wasting my time or he actually *has* a definition of existence that he simply finds insufficient for use. There is no shame in that, but there *is* in refusing to improve upon it."

The data points largely tracked. He could be wrong but he didn’t think so. Straehan glances at his left hand, noting the pale mark on his third finger… where a ring rested for the better part of two decades. Irony, it seems, is ever-present in Kisarta. When it comes, his matter-of-fact response is accompanied by a small head shake. ”If you haven’t, critical thinking is worthy of study - but I think you know that. You’ve employed both the Straw Man and Ad Hominem fallacies in your assertions. If you want to play those games, look elsewhere.”

He continues walking towards Limbo and addresses Amn with a small smile, speaking and signing, ”Is there anything in Limbo you particularly seek? Among other things, I wish to find a seer that can clarify what happened after I died. I want to 'close the book' on my past life.”

He makes a series of very fluid gestures and body postures.

Sakvroth (Drow Sign) = :: Well met! Do you understand my words? ::

”What is existence? What does it mean to exist? How would you define it?"

The sorcerer smiles broadly. ”I wouldn’t… for a few reasons. First, given how broad a subject ‘existence’ is, defining it quickly becomes an argument in semantics – which I personally dislike. Second, pondering existence moved to the back of the stove when I realized that the boundaries of ‘I’ as I knew it were simplistic.”

"As for the gods... some of them were once mortal, and some of them have found themselves more mortal than they would wish.”

”Pantheons rise, pantheons fall.” Straehan offers with equanimity, his eyes drawn to the stranger in the distance.

When she draws closer to the newcomer, the great sphinx shouts in a loud, carrying voice, almost like a roar, "Be you also newly come beneath the strange sun of this place, greeted by the Widow from your grave? We riddle as we travel towards the city ahead, and you are welcome to join if you wish."

The short human accompanying the sphinx offers a friendly wave and his practical (if biased) opinion. ”She’s philosophical, I’m delightful, and neither of us is looking for a fight.”

”The gods are not external to reality. They also have choice and are part of Truth,"

”I see. So the Gods’ choices may be lead to consequences for lesser beings regardless of those beings’ choices?” He chuckles, ”Or do our choices and consequences drive the gods’ choices? How delightful that we might be the puppet-masters.”

"Existence is, I would say by definition, a closed system. Which is, of course, why learning of that which does exist is of such import."

Straehan raises a curious eyebrow, ” ‘By definition’ has always seemed to me to be an arbitrary fence to limit possibilities. With so many unexplored possibilities, I would not agree that existence is certainly a closed system nor where those closures are. Where we are now… does that expand the bound of existence or are we outside existence – while still existing? At a minimum, it seems we are beyond the bounds of previously known ‘existence’.”

"What is Truth? Have not the philosophes debated this since philosophy began? But how can one know anything else if one does not know Truth?"

”Discerning facts from fantasies – and gathering more of the former than the latter – is certainly helpful in assessing what is true in any situation.”

"A proper riddle should be solved by one's own mind, for little is gained if you are simply given an answer. I will give you, then, only the start. Truth is what Is and what Was."

[b]”Hmm. So if Fate is merely is a result of truth and choice, that suggests there may not be any external… sentience (be it a God or otherwise) in the equation. Is that your belief?”

”Fate is but the consequence of choice and Truth. All things are the result of these two, by my judgment."

Straehan strokes his beard, considering. ”What you do you mean by Truth?”

Rahlmaat turns her head and looks down at Straehan. Her smile has a keen edge to it. "Tell me, human, if I were to believe of you all that sages say about your species, how much of it would be true?"

Strae stops and regards the sphinx, speaking earnestly, ”I’ve given offense. I sincerely apologize and hope you will forgive me. I meant no slight. I just wondered if the ‘sages’ were correct at all. Curiosity has been the foundation of many of my journeys and I thought it would be nice if that was a quality we shared.”

He pauses a moment longer before resuming his stroll. ”As for my species… If I knew what poor opinions sages held of my race, I might be inclined to agree. I’ve met few truly noble humans – and I'm not among their number.”

…after a while admits, "I have traveled wide in search of answers and questions both. True riddles I seek, not the toy-riddles which so many scholars think we sphinxes favor."

The sorcerer’s sober mood lightens a bit. ”Then, perhaps your arrival here was not accidental. Fate has dropped you into the center of a box of riddles whose ramifications may change our understanding of the multiverses.”

"…how long do you think it has been on the world of your birth since your death? I should not be surprised to find that it took long centuries for what remains of us to arrive in this place, if not longer. For all we know, there is nowhere left to go back to."

”I debated asking the Widow that very question but chose not to tax her patience. I plan on making enquiries in Limbo. I imagine some skilled seers have ‘slipped through the cracks of reality’ as we have. There’s a war whose outcome I wish to know – even if it was centuries ago.”

She sweeps her left wing into the air briefly, as if brushing something away. "Though it is a pity so few monuments bear dates. I would be curious to see if there was a pattern in time."

Straehan nods, ”Agreed. I also wonder if there is some significance regarding who awoke in a plain grave versus some of the larger and finer tombs? I assume that we aren’t the only curious people drawn here. If so, then likely some scholar residing in the city has studied the cemetery. Perhaps the answers to some of our questions can be found in a library.”

"What cause had you to travel so widely?" the sphinx questions…

Straehan raises an eyebrow, ”I might ask you the same question. If the sages speak true, your people delight in questions. And from personal experience I know that questions beget quests which beget travel – either in search of answers or better questions." He chuckles. "Am I holding up a mirror for you?”

As it was rude to press a lady to answer a question she’d possibly rather avoid, Strae shares his own answer while she considers. ”I’ve traveled for many reasons across the face of Miir. But my interesting wanderings between worlds have largely been as an oft-unwilling piece on the chessboards of fickle Gods.”

He adds, ”There have been a few occasions when my travels were a result of blind luck, kind friends, or good karma. I visited your world in one such moment.”

"Still it seems this shall be our new home, so we should see it. Shall we?" Rahlmaat waves a paw in the direction of Limbo, as if inviting Straehan to go first.

The little sorcerer nods and begins walking beside the large sphinx. ”Since going back seems unlikely…” Especially given how the Widow avoided answering that question he amends silently, ”… then going forward seems our best path.”

As they walk through the vast graveyard, Strae quotes a sliver of a poem he half-remembered from a world he couldn't quite recall, ”The grave’s a fine and private place… But none, I think, do there embrace.”

Straehan probably can't figure much out about the hieroglyphs other than that the symbols are probably involved in magic of some sort.

Not a problem. He was just analyzing the hieroglyphs to determine if they are a language. Since Miir has no pictogram/hieroglyphic languages, he was able to figure out Rahlmaat must be from ‘elsewhere’.

"I am Rahlmaat, born on Golarion, but my wandering way has wended 'tween many worlds,"

Strae smiles, ”A pleasure to meet you. I have visited your Golarion once - very briefly - and an ally of mine hailed from that world.”

"Have you yet pondered why we two speak and are understood?"

”I haven’t had a chance to think on it as you are the first ‘newcomer’ I’ve encountered. I wasn’t surprised that I understood the Widow given her role. It could be a large-scale magic or possibly a function of our unique position outside the known multiverses. The Widow mentioned this Dominion is ‘special’ among the seven… I’ll be curious to see if our ability to understand each other fails when we cross into one of the other Dominions.”

"Have you noted any patterns to this place from above?"

”No, just the scale of it all. There are hundreds of thousands, if not millions of graves in all directions. There are no paths to Limbo that I saw, despite the fact – according to the Widow – that all of us head in that direction sooner or later. Limbo itself, is likely scores or hundreds of miles from here. It was hard to estimate because the city is immense. I believe the external walls are as high as small mountains. The bounds of the city itself extend well beyond the limits of my sight. It is notable, but perhaps not significant, that the city is based on a ziggurat or a stepped pyramid in design. At the center of a city is a white spire that rises so high it pierces the clouds. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Rahlmaat smiles broadly. "Not a scholar of sphinxes, then. Our needs for food match our desert home's bounty. You need not fear me if you give me no reason for wrath."

The sorcerer matches her smile with a predatory grin of his own – with a few less incisors than Rahlmaat. ”I’ve met a couple sphinxes… sphinxae? sphunx? over the years. But I try to avoid assumptions about anyone’s diet. It’s a pity that wrath is your sticking point. I’m exceptionally good at earning people’s wrath. It’s a gift… which I’ll refrain from giving you.”

Finding her lack of assurances oddly reassuring, the little sorcerer continues to approach. ”It’s an honor to meet you, madam. I’m Straehan, or Strae, if you prefer.”

"Though perhaps we might share another hunger's filling together, for if you be a student, our greatest hungers may match. Whence and when come you? Came you hear but recently? And met you the Widow when you did?"

”I haven’t spoken with another scholar in years. I’d be delighted!” He launches into answering her questions, ”I’ve just arrived, still cleaning the grave dirt from my clothes and, yes, the Widow greeted me. I found her charming but sad.” Strae examines Rahlmaat’s markings again. He points to a series of hieroglyphs, ”If those are a language, then we are from different worlds… My world is called Miir. I have visited a few worlds – Amonkhet, Ürth, a couple others. From where do you come?”

He adds, ”If you haven’t stretched your wings yet, you might consider it. Go high enough and you will see Limbo… it’s quite a sight even this far away.”

Linguistics: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

His feet hit the ground in a puff of grave dust and he begins to walk cautiously toward the sphinx. He says with a smile, ”The two more pressing questions - before I draw too close - are ‘Are you a vegetarian and are you hungry?’ I feel it only fair to warn you, I’m stringy and sinewy… an unpleasant hors d’oeuvre, at best.” His disarming wink says his questions are mostly playful.

As the spellslinger approaches, Rahlmaat might believe herself to have grown even larger in the last few minutes… But it is a brief illusion of scale as she sees that the plucky spellcaster is quite possibly the smallest human male she has ever seen, standing barely 5’2”. Like her, his skin is covered in symbols, glyphs, and (likely) phrases of power. But the clearly arcane symbols are based on a sacred geometry foreign to any that walk Golarion’s lands and the phrases are like no language (of the many) she has studied.

Apologies if I overstepped by getting into Rahlmaat’s head and history.

While he approaches and waits to see if this encounter ends with a pleasant conversation or an unpleasant lunch, Straehan regards the sphinx’s glyphs curiously.

Hunting or sight-seeing? It’s heading toward the city, so perhaps another newcomer?

Straehan matches the sphinx’s pace, paralleling the creature’s course, and moving to stay roughly 100’ away – close enough to be seen but not an obvious threat. If the sphinx clearly looks in his direction, the sorcerer offers a polite bow and a raised open hand, hopefully indicating his non-hostile intentions. Needless friends are better than needless enemies.

Knowledge: Arcana: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (13) + 15 = 28 What do I know about Sphinxes?
Perception: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (8) + 14 = 22 Keeping an eye on the sphinx

”Each Dominion is ruled by a Guardian, who act as overseers, rulers, and prisoners in their lands and possess power that rivals the greatest of heroes and monsters from the planes beyond.”

The sorcerer raises an eyebrow then encompasses the vast cemetery with a single sweeping gesture. ”Would it be correct to say that you are the Guardian of this Dominion?”

After that, I’m out of questions… well, I have questions but I’m enjoying the unknowns and happy to discover more as I adventure.

Straehan concludes their conversation, ”Thank you for your candor and your counsel, Lady. I appreciate it. If I can ever be of service to you, please call on me.”

Skipping back to Air Straehan…

As you ascend into the air, the sheer scope of the graveyard dawns upon you. Thousands, if not millions, of graves and funerary monuments stretch toward the horizon in every direction. In the direction the Weeping Widow indicated earlier, the image of a city begins to come into view. Though the city must be dozens, if not hundreds, of miles in the distance, the size of the city beggars all belief. Walls that would dwarf small mountains encircle a city that stretches far beyond your sight, rising on itself miles into the air like a tiered step pyramid. An alabaster spire rises from the city and pierces the clouds high above.

A low whistle escapes his lips as the enormity of the Dominion – one of seven, no less – sinks in. Where has fate dropped me? I can’t turn back, so forward it is… Straehan sets course for the city and flies at the limit of his speed. His eyes are peeled for any sign of dangers – above or below.

Perception: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (13) + 14 = 27

Given the distances, he could exhaust all his occult power in flight and still be only incrementally closer to his goal. So, when his spell’s magic wanes, he picks a safe spot to land (hopefully on something road-like leading to Limbo) and continues the journey on foot at an easy pace, recognizing this is a marathon, not a sprint.

”…the heroic deeds at the end of your life's thread had earned you a reprieve. Were it not for the warring pantheons of Miir throwing all into tumult, you would have obtained peace. But the chaos of the war disrupted the natural cycle of your multiverse and many souls slipped between the cracks in Creation…”

Straehan’s laugh is grim. ”Since I had a hand in starting the war, it seems karma has seen fit to pay me in my own coin. I should have expected it. And that I might meet old ‘acquaintances’ is a blade that cuts both ways.” Still, his mood is somewhat lightened learning that he had balanced the scales for the black deeds of his past.

”There are many threats in Kisarta…”

Strae considers the list of dangers, ”Every answer you provide, Lady, breeds four more questions. But I’ll be satisfied asking only two. Correct me if I’m wrong but it sounds like those who die beneath the Pale Sun are ‘reborn’ here – possibly in this very graveyard again – but they are diminished with each incarnation. Yes? Regarding the more mundane threats… what are these guardians, legions, and Dominions?”

”You both do and do not belong here. You were ripped from your final fate by a force greater than you can know and whether you belong here or not is only a question that you can answer.”

He mulls this revelation for a moment before another question is dragged from his lips. ”Do you know where my soul was headed before Fate – or whomever - intervened? That answer may help me view this reality in a proper context. Was I Hell-bound or headed elsewhere?”

Upon hearing your last question, she points to the horizon in the direction of the Pale Sun and speaks once more, "Journey towards the wan glow of Kisarta upon the horizon, towards the city of Limbo, if it is a path you seek. Every lost soul's journey intersects with the City of the Dead in due time."

Straehan follows the Weeping Widow’s hand, squinting at the horizon. Then he moves away from his gravestone, straightens his robes, wipes away the lingering traces of grave-dust, and shoulders his pack with determination. ”Thank you for your kindness, Lady. I doubt anyone has cried for me in a very long time… One final question, about the lands beneath the Pale Sun betwixt here and Limbo. Are there threats of which I should be wary or are all these lands safe for travelers?”

Casting Mage Armor and Fly

Effects:
Fly = 9 mins
Mage Armor = +4 AC for 9 hrs

He presses on, ”If I do not belong here… is there some way for me to return to my reality?”

His final question emerges with a tinge of unease, ”From this vast graveyard, where would you suggest I go?”