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In the midst of your normal activities, suddenly your Wayfinders begin to glow, offering a soft green glow. Within seconds, all about you, it seems that the world literally stops.
If you where in the middle of teaching students and protégés, you see them locked in place, neither breathing nor speaking, perhaps stopped in mid step or even in the air as they fall from one of the obstacles used for training. Only you seem free to move, though it only takes a moment before you hear what seems like multiple voices speaking in unison directly in your mind. It is unpleasant, but not painful, and you do not sense any threat as they speak, simply leaving you uncertain just how many individuals are involved.
"Special Agents, the Society needs you. Please, make your self ready within the hour."
Due to your many efforts in serving, if not saving the Pathfinder Society in the recent years, you have earned a special rank amongst the Decemvirate, the masked leaders of the organization, who have, in the past, called upon you for extraordinary missions no other agents can be trusted with. All of which are covert, and generally unknown to even other Venture-Captains or less experienced Pathfinder Agents. When these taskings come, you are magically summoned to a strange hall within the Grand Lodge itself, and yet, also not within the Grand Lodge at all, as it is somewhere within a hidden, and very private Plane beyond the Material Plane
The message is simple, and offers you enough time to gather what supplies you may need. A short time before you are transported to speak with "the Ten", the temporal energies will diminish, returning the world around you to action, and finally allowing you to give any final commands and make your own Lodges ready for your absence.
With all of that done, a magical doorway opens near you, as it has many times in the past, simply awaiting you to step through.
Once you do, you appear within what seems to be a tower of some sort, as the room is circular in nature. The ceiling is covered in what appears to be a deep black space, filled with stars and other celestial bodies. An ornate round table stands before you, and ten figures stand awaiting your arrival, but also other Agents as well. They remain silent, but motion for you to have a seat.
As you do, nearly any accommodations you might wish are miraculously conjured upon the finest of electrum dishes, goblets, and other dining wear, from dried and sweetened fruit, to strong drink, to very rare exotic dishes, to even common trail rations, as if reacting to your mental requests.
Once all have arrived, taken a seat, and have had a chance to sate their hungers and thirsts, the group turns to address you.
[spoiler=Will Save, Perception or Sense Motive DC 40 <Illusion> <for fun>]Despite seeing ten assembled humanoids, all of whose features are heavily obscured, making it difficult to even assess what race they may actually be, you discover that half of them are outright illusions, if not masterfully done. Based on. . . recent events, at least for some of you, there are only 5 members of "The Ten" here.
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If I go with the barbarian fighter in Rich's game, I want to play it like a pulp character in a 1920s swords and sorcery story. Lemme know what you think about this description (I'm rather disappointed in the bland nature fo the New Blood descriptions):
Frag is a tall northlander, standing nearly six and one-half feet in height. He is mightily shouldered and broad of chest - striking an imposing figure. His tightly corded muscles evoke images of heavy dwarvish rope, barely contained under the light armor that he wears. At nearly 20 stone, Frag is a mountain of a man. His iron-like visage centers around his deep gimlet-eyes. Lapis in color, and sullen in countenance, they speak of an inner fury held in check solely as a fighter's tactic. To look at the man is to look into his eyes, which constantly measure the worth of all he sees. His skin is bronze, not from the proud Ulfen blood in his veins, but from years of living in a harsh, wild environment. His hair is square cut, shoulder length, and black as jet. Rare among his people, the black hair likely comes from a stubborn Kellid ancestor.
Despite the feral nature of his physical form, he holds himself relaxed. His confidence and volcanic personality speak for themselves, no need to needlessly waste his energy giving effort to his intimidating nature. He wears the massive falchion, Widowmaker across his back like a noble carries his purse. While his armor is simple in design, it mimics the man, efficient in function. He is a man who chooses his words carefully, speaking worth purpose and a forthrightness that makes a courtesan nervous.
This is the barbarian of the frigid north who has forsaken his tribe in order to take control of his own weird within the Pathfinder Society. This is the warrior of uncanny potential who seeks immortality in the bard's song. This is the adventurer who seeks wealth in the long blade of his weapon. This is Frag, son of Bjorn, son of Hjörlþegn, son of Hygelac.
...and apparently his wish is that of a slab of grilled mammoth...
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Whereas the first two agents to respond to the call have bene quite subdued, the third is a sprightly gnome with bright red hair that sticks out in all directs and garishly blue dragon-hide armor covering his body. A large flightless bird follows him in as the gnome makes a deep bow. "Lord Fizzbeard Dragonfiend, at your service!" he says with a sweeping gesture of his arm. "Servant of the mighty Lord Smiad, defender of honor, winner of renown, and slayer of dragons! Pleasure to make your acquaintance!"
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A Varisian man leaps through the portal, landing silently on padded feet. Dressed for battle in gleaming celestial mail, he scans the surroundings, his hands close to a pair of adamantine gladius'. Seeing no danger, he straightens and approaches the table, catching the tail end of Fizzbeard's introduction.
Not an imposing figure, Rathen stands at an average height with forgettable features. Aside from a few trinkets that stand out (like a number of ioun stones circling above his head, including a nasty ochre rhomboid), the man seems designed to go unnoticed. His movements are graceful, quick, and full of purpose. He's been a Pathfinder field agent long enough to become no-nonsense and direct with fellow Venture-Captains and the Decemvirate, but has a patient understanding method with his own agents.
"Venture-Captain Rathen Wyrmblight here," the blue-eyed man says to the table, giving a curt nod. "Are we all here yet?"
Begus should also remember that Rathen sent one of his agents to the gnome for mentorship: Cathran.
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A female Halfling jumps down from her large wolf, ties it up outside and strolls into the lodge, humming a Yuletide tune.
She stops her song, and scans those gathered for seasoned Pathfinders available for a critical mission.
She calls out in a commanding yet melodious voice:
"Greetings one and all! I have been recruiting agents for the Society in the Flaxseed halls for the past two years. This time, apparently they seek more experienced agents. I am not sure they really meant for me, but I have answered the call nonetheless.
She bows to the warriors assembled
"I am Dora. A pleasure to meet each of you ."
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A towering half-orc, nearly a head taller than most humans, enters the Lodge. He has white, spiky hair shorn closely and green eyes and wears a thick, dull green shirt of leathery hide which and bears small fragments of several other wild beasts about it. Strapped across his back are an ornate longbow and a greataxe with a blade of black metal.
He gives a toothy grin and a hearty arm clasp to Rathen, then turns and hesitantly speaks to the rest of the group. KULIK, he says, pointing his thumb to the chest of his mithral shirt. KULIK follow teachingsh of Lady Luck Desna. Desna grant KULIK magic and help KULIK out of chainsh in Qadira. Now, with arrow and greataxe, KULIK bring freedom of Desna to othersh. He holds forth his left hand, palm up, which bears a very small, blue butterfly tattooed upon it.
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Begus steps into the room and instantly smiles at the sight of Rathen.
He walks over to him and gives him an embrace that is slightly too tight for the situation. "Ah, Rathen, My Friend! Cathran said you had settled down into married life." Begus says so quickly it is difficult for many to understand. I did not expect you to come out of retirement and leave the side of your lovely wife." The smile slowly slips from his face and the cadence of his words slow as he continues, "This must be a serious matter to bring you here."
The shadow lifts from the gnome quickly as he notices the others in the room.
"Greetings, Fellow Pathfinders! It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Begus, Seeker of arcane and written knowledge. As he addresses the room, a small hedgehog peers out of one of his many pockets, looks around and scurries up his robe and comes to rest on his shoulder. "And this is Mrs. Pricklesworth. Say hello to the group, dear."
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Dora spies the gnome enter and smiles.
"How wonderful. So often I am towered over by the warriors types in the group. It will be nice having someone at my own level. ."
She bows to Begus and the hedgehog
"How cute. Mrs Pricklesworth? I just love it! This is my friend Rusty." she points to the large red wolf behind her.
"Not that there is anything wrong with warrior types. I actually started as a reading tutor for a trio of half-orc berserkers fresh into the Society. Although that job did not last long."
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Dora spies the gnome enter and smiles.
"How wonderful. So often I am towered over by the warriors types in the group. It will be nice having someone at my own level. ."
"Indeed!" Fizz says as he takes the halfling's hand, bows down, and gives it a kiss. "I have no doubt that we will show them the true strength of the Short Folk! Haha!"
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Once you have had a chance to sit, grab something to snack on, and make introductions, The Ten turn their attention back to you. This time they speak, but again, it seems as if all of them are speaking in unison, partially masking just who is saying what exactly, but not so distracting that you find it hard to follow.
"Good.. Now that you have all arrived, we need your help. As you should know, within the last year, we experimented with a strange device that allowed us to do more than simply pear through the veil of time. We, in some senses, stepped through it, and while numerous agents where able to learn much about the past, . . . unexpected interference took us to a much darker time."
"And while many of us perished, we where able to learn something from the journey. Since then, we have had a covert group of Pathfinders looking into Azlanti and Serpentfolk ruins within Sargava, utilizing clues from the distant past to give us an edge. There, they trekked through the Mwangi Expanse, hot of the trail of the legendary lost city of Saventh-Yhi, dubbed "the City of Seven Spears". Unfortunately, their mission's early success did not go unnoticed."
"As if out of the woodwork, the Aspis Consortium, the Sargavan government, various Pirates, and even the blood followers of the Mantis have all taken a keen interest in what's going on there. We have also gotten reports that the Pathfinders discovered a secret beneath Saventh-Yhi itself. It's unclear at this point just what this may be, but, it not long after our team on the ground made the discovery, we lost contact. Allies and spies amongst the locals indicate that there was a survivor, . . . not one of ours, but a possible ally."
"We need you to travel there and do what you can to find our teams, keep the other organizations back, and to learn as much as you can about Saventh-Yhi, and whatever lay beneath it. You will be transported there shortly, but if you have any questions, now is the time. We will also make available for you the opportunity to make any purchases you might require, . . . within reason, but time is very much of the essence."
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Dora is more interested in the pomp and circumstances than the appearance of the ten assembled personages
"How exciting this mission sounds. The Aspis have always been disposable. ."
"Also the findings near Azlanti Ridge may hold more clues ."
Dora shares the information she recalls from stories and songs
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Rathen smirks. Under his breath, but loud enough to be heard by those close, he says to KULIK, "See the missing shadows? Halve the number before us. Do you think they'll ever trust enough to be ten again?"
"I've read the chronicles of that group. Interesting stuff," he says to Dora. "Begus knows first-hand, of course, since he was there."
Finally, to the Ten he asks, "What do we know about Saventh-Yhi? I expect the answer to be 'precious little', but even small details might give us an edge somewhere."
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Begus nods at Rathen's words, "we have seen the damage an insider can do." Begus waves at the image."It is good to see you all again! There is more than I remember the last time we spoke"
"I have been to the Ridge. It holds many wonders and hardships. My brother, Bodo, commanded a YUGE construct as we battled Ape me that were attacking our camp. It was AMAZING."
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"This Savith sounds like a guy I would have enjoyed drinking with. My knowledge of the expanse is limited as is my knowledge of how to keep other organizations back except for one way- by steel. I don't think I have been on a mission with three wee-lings before, should be interesting." Jaggar says to the group. He then purchases a scroll of fly and another oil of bless weapon.
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Dora scratches her head for a minute, trying to straighten her messed hair.
Mwangi? I don't think I have ever been there...but I may have a map. Something from my first or second mission...to the Blakrose Museum if I remember correctly. You can find like everything in there...I still am hurt they did not invite me to one of the weddings. You figure you know a family and do a few favors for them, you would expect an invite, you know?
She does not wait for a response but starts digging through her haversack.
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Finally, to the Ten he asks, "What do we know about Saventh-Yhi? I expect the answer to be 'precious little', but even small details might give us an edge somewhere."
"We have discovered a great deal about the City of Seven Spears, though much of it is not pertinent to the mission at hand. Unfortunately, on that account, the subject matter experts are the very same we need located and returned to us."
"We believe that the team had begun to investigate recently discovered vaults beneath the city, and that's where we would like you to begin. However, there is said to be a survivor who may have more information."
With that, The Ten call upon their magic, harnessing powers within the Hao Jin Tapestry to amplify the it, and soon you find yourself walking the roads of the arcane. The trip takes only seconds, and through brightly colored lights, you see the world about you pass, barely recognizable as what seems like you fly by it, observing from above.
Once the spell has completed, you feel a small tug of nausea, as those that teleport generally do, but it lasts only a second or two before vanishing.
Although Saventh-Yhi has gone through innumerable changes over its millennia of existence, its appearance has long since settled into a status quo. The first things a visitor notices on first sight of the city’s skyline are its seven spears. Protruding from the already lofty tops of seven 100-foot-high ziggurats, these narrow monoliths
extend a further 100 feet into the sky. Each of these spires marks the heart of one of the city’s seven districts, and they can be seen from nearly everywhere in the ruins, the seven spears make excellent landmarks.
Nestled in a cradle of sheer cliffs thick with jungle vines and brushed with wisps of fog, the seven districts of Saventh-Yhi are arrayed around a large central lake. The buildings of the city are clearly weathered and worn, but most resist the encroachment of plants and mud, and they refuse to crumble, appearing as a ruin of only a few thousand years of age rather than over 10,000. The architectural style is remarkable, marked by massive guardian sculptures and intricate geometric patterns carved into the stone, any who have studied Azlanti
ruins can automatically recognize this style . Up close, countless individual carvings and murals decorate the inner walls of these buildings, and it is from these carvings that the secret history of Saventh-Yhi can be recovered with time.
Fog rises and clings to the waters and cliffs of the city every morning, but these mists quickly burn off by midmorning. By noon, the heat of the sun raises temperatures to agonizing heights. Heavy rain falls in the late afternoon, providing relief from the sweltering heat. As evening approaches, the rain dies off and the fog returns, remaining until midnight when more rain clears the air.
Throughout the area, you see many camps, eventually making your way towards what is obviously the Pathfinder Society camp from the large banner of the Glyph of the Open Road hanging nearby. As you enter, various agents eye you with suspicion, but if asked, direct you towards the command tent.
Within, you see a small assortment of healers working around a crazed man, not hostile, but tormented. The healers recognize you as fellow Pathfinders, knowing you for your deeds, if not rank, but have the hands a bit busy at the moment, and with a gesture, silently ask your indulgences as you wait.
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Frag doesn't say anything, but he ALWAYS teleports with a weapon out. It's a ridiculous means of travel that's tantamount to running into a field naked.
I can't fail a DC 20 Perception. Frag nods towards Rathen, and then looks out into the jungle city. "What succor do you await? I bring death and blood, not medicine."