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Loud and raucous conversation filters through the door from the common room of the Uscalin Lodge, which doubles as the Ace of Dreams gambling house. “I know it’s here. I had it just a moment ago.” Venture-Captain Shevar Besnik lifts piles of papers and numerous boxes off of his desk, stacking them on various side tables and chairs in his clean but overly cluttered office. The tall, Varisian man’s face parts in a toothy grin as he lifts up a solid oak box. “Found it!” As if to punctuate his discovery, a crowd of players in the gambling hall erupts in cheers. Distracted for a moment, Besnik stares at the closed office door that leads to the common room. “Desna laughs. Well, she laughs at me, but she smiles on them.” The venturecaptain shrugs. “All they have is gold; what I have in here is far more valuable.” Besnik opens the box’s lid painstakingly slowly, careful to keep the contents out of sight. With reverence, he lifts a large tome from the box and gently sets it on the table. “Careful, the binding hasn’t held up well. This is one of the few Tomes of Righteous Repose left in the world. I’m pretty sure there’s one in the library of the Sancta Iomedaea in Vigil, but I’m—well, let’s just say I’m no longer welcome there. That’s a story for another time. “Up until today, I’ve only skimmed the pages. I didn’t want to damage it, but now that you’re here, I can’t wait any longer. Care to plumb the depths of this most ancient and wonderful storybook? Oh, the marvelous adventures we will soon read! This tome is a collection of tales describing how various crusaders died gloriously and honorably. I’m hoping to find some clues in the text that will lead us to an as-of-yet undiscovered site or relic. Maybe we can trade a bit of what we find with the Knights of Ozem and earn ourselves some goodwill. After what happened last time, we need it. “Care to peruse the pages with me?”
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As Kenra ties on the last of his straps, Ser Willem smiles at her. "I promise I won't gamble any money away. Getting her enchanted was expensive enough." He pats the hilt of the sword at his side. "Now, go and have Destrier taken care of. I will see you soon." He gives her a salute and he stares after her for a brief moment before heading in to the Lodge. He had never been to Last Wall before and Vellumis was as grand a showing of it that he had ever seen. White washed walls and shiny domes on buildings were eclipsed however by the large contingent of military forces in the area. He didn't know much about the place, but he was sure there was a reason for it.
As he headed in, he removed his helmet, shaking his blonde hair out and smoothing it with his hand. His practiced smile appeared as he greeted the doorman and then went directly to the office of the Venture Captain, his newly shined chain shirt clinking under his white tunic with the Dargerion crest of an amethyst colored dragon grasping a golden crown. The same crest adorned the steel shield strapped to his back.
He listened intently to the Captain before speaking. "Sir, you'll have to forgive my ignorance of things magical, but I don't believe my eyes will find anything more than a spellslinger would in those pages."
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"Ugh. Boats. Why's th'Society always sendin' me out on gods-damned boats?!" Graxzos lurches off the ship in port, looking green, and stares around Vellumis. He runs a hand through his chestnut hair, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and adjusts his belt to ride more easily on his waist. "Right! Lastwall...ne'er been 'ere before. Guessin' it's a bit of a stuck-up place, if'n these buildin's an' the reputation o' the country be any innication," he mutters, heading off into the heart of the city.
He's pleasantly surprised by the Uscalin Lodge. "Well, I didn' think this town'd have any decent action in it!" He spends several minutes lingering in the gaming room, and picks up a horn of Lastwall ale before heading into the meeting with Venture-Captain Besnik. "Damn fine place yeh got 'ere, cap'n! I gotta feelin' you an' I could become the best o' friends. An' yeh'd probably end up wit' most o' my money--less'n you got a place for shootin' contests in this lodge o' yours. Heh heh." He turns to the others. "The name's Graxzos. M'friends call me Grax. You can call me Graxzos. " He laughs uproariously at his own joke. "Damn, it don't stop bein' funny..."
The dwarf listens carefully to Besnik's introduction, frowning. "So this is a storybook, but yer hopin' t'find real leads in it? Well, no harm in tryin', I guess..." His face makes it clear he thinks the proposition is somewhat dubious.
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Rah'im is a feral looking Garundi, with an oversized piglike snout and a wispy unkempt beard.
He grunts in response to the introductions "Name's Rah'im" with an impressive amount of phlegm sound in the middle."
Despite his rough nature Rah'im takes great care in holding his drink steady so as best not to spill any.
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A tall and graceful elven woman sashays into the room, robes swishing around her feet, and a beaming smile lighting her face. "I heard something about some unknown historical find!! I hurried over here as fast as I could!" She looks about the room, noting the various people already in attendance and instantly dismissing the hardened fighters as not currently being her objective. Her gaze stays for just a touch longer on the human in the shining armour, but when her gaze reaches the Venture Captain, she exclaims "There you are! So what have we here!?" She moves to the table and exhales a breath in fascinated awe. "Now this! This is going to be well worth the trip!"
She is almost buzzing with excitement, having to repeatedly clasp and reclasp her hands as she listens with forced patience to the Venture Captain as he unpacks the book and holds it up. She covers her mouth in shock as the book is finally revealed, and gives a very girlish squeal of joy at being invited to look within the tattered and ancient tome.
"I would love to help! Me! I want to see!" You would think that a ten year old human girl had just been offered a ride on a pony....
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Seeing that most folks are here, Shevar brings the book to a big round table where you are all gathered around. "Now, now settle down everydown! I assure you the most magical thing in this tome ere is the stories it has to tell us! You there, girl, help me open the pages of the tome, I'm afraid my over-eagerness might rip the pages apart!" He says as he turns to Amelia, who is as obviously excited as he is.
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"I can't believe I am holding such an important part of History!" Amelia exclaims. "Oh, by the way, the names Amelia! I can't help being so excited.. I just have this.. addiction to learning and knowledge. Anyways, as obscure as Rellakarabee Fustbickle is, this is an amazing find! I know that not every one can stomach the melodrama and all of the tragedy he writes about, but for true practitioners and collectors of knowledge he is well known." She ends this latest diatribe with a casual flick of her head, tossing her short hair back behind her shoulder.. a move you will come to know as an unconscious tic.
"However, what better place for all of his melodrama than here?! What with the military dictatorship collecting the last remnants of crusaders at the end of the Shining Crusade against the Whispering Tyrant and keeping all the orcs at bay? I am sure that there was plenty of fodder for his stories in all of that" Amelia rambles on.. and on.. and on.
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Soon after the venture-captain found the tome, a fit of coughing was heard from the gambling hall. *cough cough cough* "Besnik, did you say you had aspirin in that minuscule office of yours?" The office door opens, and an old man enters, still coughing loudly.
The man, presumably Varisian, has a slightly hunched posture and keeps his left hand behind his back for support. He's dressed in fine scholar's robes, though they smell of an old person. A worn out grimoire is hanging on his belt, and he carries two scroll cases: sure signs of a wizard. A keen eye can spot a bright green scorpion climbing around his pockets, most likely his familiar.
"That reminds me. You!" he exclaims suddenly and points at each of the other Pathfinders, glaring them. "If you see any festrogs scurrying about, let me, Kaspar Markov, know! Trying to catch them alone is difficult."
Having said that, Kaspar bursts into another fit of coughing. "Curses, feeble fools..."
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The old man sneers at Amelia's excitement. "Rellakarabee Fustbickle was a fine storyteller, but a subpar historian. Everyone knows he made up half of the stories he wrote. And his melodrama is overrated." He coughs, again.
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"Those who make light of war have never lived it," Ser Willem says as he looks over the shoulders of the elven woman and the Venture Captain. "Let's just see whether or not any of these stories prove true or are simply the ravings of a crazed gnome."
While they look on, he says as an aside to Kaspar. "What's a festrog?"
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"A damn quick nuisance is what a festrog is," answers Kaspar, and coughs loudly. "The textbooks greatly undermined their ability to break free from control. They're wiser than they look, too: they haven't sought vengeance on me. Yet! Keep your eyes open!"
He neglected to describe what a festrog looks like.
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Besnik turns to Kaspar, looking at him funnily "An aspirin? We have no time! We could be on verge of a major historical finding here. But other stuff Fustbickle wrote has basis to it, real history and knowledge hidden in the writings. This could be one that could go down in the Societies books if we can understand what the book is trying to tell us."
The book is thick, and with each turning page, Amelia releases a more and more dust into the room, causing Kaspar to react a little bit to his cough. Some of you get bored waiting for Kaspar's 'AHA' moment, as after an hour, nothing yet happens.
But as Amelia turns the next page, a piece of art is stuck in between the pages. he Venture-Captain jolts upright. “Minkai art! Let’s see, the Minkai Empire was founded in 3619, and the empire’s first explorers didn’t reach the west coast of the continent until at least 3691 ar, which leaves only sixty years before the beginning of the Shining Crusade itself. These women could have been among the first Minkai citizens to reach the Inner Sea! Let’s see, what secrets does the poem on this page hold?”
The picture resembles three female samurai warriors, of Minkai descent, walking underneath a burning sun.
The Whisp’ring Tyrant lurks below,
Feeding on peasants’ fear and woe.
The god’s faithful set a border,
Shielding with their knightly order.
Hidden beneath Gydular’s snow
[illegible] shining glow
[illegible] darkness he would sow,
[illegible] Minkai warder.
Still the Tyrant lurks below.Only few, the location know,
In case Tar-Baphon’s power grow
And find [illegible]
Trusted few knew [illegible]
But they were [illegible]
Still the Tyrant lurks below.
Besnik smiles reassuringly. “We may not be able to read every word of this poem, but what we can read is more than enough to tell us that we need to investigate this site. What is clear to me is that the poem references some sort of protection against the Whispering Tyrant. The Knights of Ozem have always been secretive about the many and varied ways they keep that old lich locked away in Gallowspire, even among themselves. It’s possible that they have no idea this particular protection exists. Whatever Gydular is, it must be important.”
The damage on the page is due to smeared ink, and spells like mending and make whole are unsuccessfully in repairing it.
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"I shall endeavor to keep an eye out for them, "Willem says to Kaspar, having no idea what he is looking for. "Either way, this place seems to be foreboding and dangerous. Sounds like a great place to find what we're looking for."
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A surly-looking, battle-hardened dwarf with scars and tattoos stands silently. He seems to be protecting a skittish-looking gnome, perhaps as a bodyguard.
The gnome speaks up apprehensively.
"Say, is there something hiding under the bar, Ripley?" the gnome asks. A small, draconic creature perches on the gnome's shoulder. It looks weary, as if it hasn't slept in days. It almost seems to sigh, then looks under the desk.
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Graxzos looks at the newcomer with interest, and at Rah'im with more interest when the man finally speaks up. "Ustalav, huh? I ain't had th'dubious pleasure. Yet. Tha'll be fun." He frowns as he pores over the poem. "But I don' know about all o' this...e'en I know tha' the Knights o' Ozem have got layers an' layers o' defenses set up against the Whisperer comin' back inta th'world. An' what's worse, I think they spread th' info on 'is defenses out among all o' the Knights, so if'n one is taken captive or somethin' like tha' he won't be able t'blab it all. So piecin' together exactly wha' we're lookin' at could be...tough."
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Amelia just stares back at Grax and Kaspar, her enthusiasm fading like a wilting flower before their negativity. "I was just helping.. Its not my fault not everyone gets excited about knowing things!" She tosses her hair and turns her back on the dwarf, obviously done with him.
As Kaspar bounces in and is the next to rain on her parade, Amelia flips her hand at the man, "Details details. He got the point across, didn't he??" She gives a dainty sniff of the air and recoils from the old-man-mothball smell assaulting her nose. "Not even an oldster like you can deny that!"
As the page falls out of the books, Amelia's attention is quickly drawn back to the Venture Captain and the historical rarity before her. She peers over his shoulder, eagerly soaking up the poem and committing it to memory. Afterwards, she stands straight, chewing a thumbnail as she considers the new information. Hesitantly this time, she begins.
"Well, most people stay away from Vyrlich, but some travelers do pass through on occasion.. The Whispering Tyrants prison is said to be warded and protected many times over, but there has not been any Lastwall forces there for some time now.. they were all forced out either by cultists or by the lingering maleficence of the Tyrant." She glances down at Grax.. surpise showing on her petite features. "Yes. You are correct about the multiple lines of defense on the prison."
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Captain Shevar looks at the Gnome funnily, "If you're done with your mind games, we have greatness to be discovered here." he says, slightly annoyed pushing for the group to take more so of an interest in the old dusty tome lying on the table in front of you. The study was long and hard, books upon books of history, maps, and everything possibly written about Ustalav was thrown on the table at you.
To the surprise of the party, the decryption of the cryptic poem was lead by none other than Rah'im as he subtly points out pieces of history, and parts of maps that fit perfectly into the poem. In the end, the group is able to condclude. Gydular’s Point was once a famous peak in the Hungry Mountains, as the view if provided of the surrounding area was both majestic and militarily strategic. In 4187 ar, a powerful earthquake crumbled the peak, leaving massive slabs of jagged rock that locals renamed the Greyshards.
"Yes, yes, yes, that's it! That's your mission!" Shevar jumps with a shriek of over excitement in his voice, pointing to the Greyshards on the map. "You shall explore this place, and reveal to me what you have found about this important landmark, there must surely be something of great discovery here."
He runs over to the back of the room, into a little closest shed and spends about 15 minutes shuffling through some items, he comes back with a bag and shoves it at your face. "Take these along with you." In the bag, there is a traveller's any tool, a wand of cure moderate wounds (5 charges), a wand of protection from evil (7charges), six flask of holy water, and one soul stimulant.
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The gnome's eyes go wide with the reference to 'mind games,' but then he quickly changes the subject.
"Does it really seem like a good idea to be exploring this place? Maybe these wards are going to backfire and hit us, instead of the Whispering Tyrant! Maybe he escaped his prison and ambushes us there! So many precautions we must take. I'm sure with several weeks of preparation we will be ready," Mr. Copperpot says.
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Ser Willem turns to Copperpot as he takes the bag and spreads its contents on the table. "It's a pleasure to be working with you again, my gnomish friend. I admire your knack for prepardness, but Shevar will agree that time is of the essence. If we don't get there before anyone else, the Tyrant may well end up free. Let's get these things divvied up to those who can use them best."
He takes one of the holy water flasks and leaves the rest for the others.
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Mr. Copperpot nods solemnly, and seems to be at ease working with the capable Ser Willem again.
"If you say so," he says. "Well, I should probably be in the middle, surrounded by as many allies as possible and as far away from the enemies as I can possibly be. My dwarven friend likes to be toward the front, or he could also take rear guard."
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"I, Kaspar Markov, accept your protection, knight. I am not haughty enough to decline any help I can get. After all, I work best with a guardian in front of me!"
"That reminds me!" Kaspar suddenly adds. "Poison! Watch out for poison, young man! Your sword is useless against it! That goes for all of you!" His wrinky index finger points at each of the Pathfinders, even the illusory bodyguard. And then, he coughs.
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Graxzos is slightly startled by the appearance of the gnome, but doesn't seem put off by him. "Good t'meet yeh. An' yer friend too, mute or no!" He slaps the "other dwarf" on the back in a companionable way and then moves his hand, staring at it as though something's not quite right but he can't put his finger on what...
After several hours of studying, the ornery dwarf is starting to get both drunk and, very obviously, impatient. "Three weeks?! We don' need any time like tha'. Trust me, if'n this Whisperin' Tyrant was outta his cage, I think 'e'd 'ave a lot more t'be doin' than ambushin' people crawlin' around a mountain." He chews his lip, looking thoughtful. "Reck'n I c'n leave later t'day--just gotta pick up some, uh...supplies...in town. Venture-cap'n, anythin' else we should know? Any kind o' info about what used t'be on this peak?"
Once the VC has finished giving the group his information and instructions, Graxzos will pocket a flask of the holy water and set off.
- one masterwork backpack (50 gp, 4 lbs.)
- 2 iron pellet grenades (total 100 gp, 2 lbs.)
- grappling hook (1 gp, 4 lbs.)
He'll also sell his current backpack (sells for 1 gp, 2 lbs.).
Total change: spends 150 gp, gains 9 pounds encumbrance (with the holy water).
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Amelia's excitement is quickly restored to previous heights at the prospect of another adventure. "Yes!" she exclaims. "This will be such fun!!! Lets see here.. Us magic users can divvy up the wands.. and I will take a flask of the holy water. Who wants the Any-tool? And the Soul Stimulant? I have never used either of these.."
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As you embark on your journey, you pack rations enough for a week, as the journey takes you around 6 days on foot. You travel through the mountainside, seeing very pretty landscapes, dragons from a distance, and lots of wonderful sights. The journey is uneventful save for the few complains, and cold nights had.
The tomb you seek, embedded within a mountain, is some ways above sea level, making it very very chilly, with light snowing. The tomb is exactly right where the maps tell you it would be, a giant stone arch, with illegible inscriptions. A natural path, what can be described as indents in the ground, bare soil, unlike the growth of greens around it leads to the tomb towards the main settlements. The tomb appears to be sealed off, but a giant ice boulder.
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Kaspar "chatters" with Amelia, which means a lecture and coughing.
"Never used soul stimulant? Young lady, it's high time you start using it! It has one application, but that one is most useful..."
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During the journey to destination, Kaspar made it a habit to cast endure elements daily, making his expedition comfortable in his robes.
"Hey..."
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Graxzos gives Rah'im a strange look when the man shifts into his half-beast form. I wonder if he ran afoul of some damned crazy druids too...thank Desna my case didn't get that bad! As the party climbs the mountain he shivers, drawing his cloak tight around him to ward off the chill, but seems to be a generally capable mountaineer.
"Keep an eye out, folks," he mutters as the group approaches the cave. He's scanning the path with concern. "We ain't the only ones 'ere, at least not recently. This tomb ain't abandoned at all!" He's so busy looking over the footprints that he doesn't even look up when Kaspar speaks.
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Ser Willem is shaken a bit as he sees Rah'im change, but he has seen a lot of strange things of late and is simply happy to have such a being on his side for once. He spends the time chatting with whoever will chat with him, mostly about the greatness of court life and how strong leaders are needed in the troubled times ahead.
"Not surprising,"Willem says as Graxzos speaks. "We need to get this boulder out of the way before we can see just what is inside however. Help me move it." Willem approaches the boulder of ice, ready to test his strength.
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Mr. Copperpot and his dwarven bodyguard maintain a constant vigil as they travel. The gnome frequently looks behind him, under things, to the skies, and well...everywhere. He looks like he does not sleep much.
When Graxzos tells them to keep an eye out, and that others have been here, the gnome responds "Yes, everyone please keep your eyes open. There are certainly ambushes to watch out for, and also plots and counter-plots to consider. We may even find the Whispering Tyrant here, and if so, everyone run for your lives!"
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Looks like I've got the wand, unless you want it. No biggie either way.
On the way out of town, Amelia separates from the group for a short time, and when she rejoins the group she has some new toys. Two new wands hang from her belt, and her quiver now shows two different types of fletching. On the way, she spends some time perusing some of her lesser spells, preparing a few that may be useful considering their destination. The rest of the time, she uses to get to know the fellow team members.. her friendliness and innocent joy hopefully infecting the rest of the so far surely group. As the team moves higher up the mountain, Amelia fingers one of her wands.. if the temperatures get much colder, she was going to have to use it to help protect the party.
As Grax calls out the warning, Amelia quickly pulls herr wand of mage armor and taps herself and Kaspar with it while peering around for the cause of the dwarfs alarm.
As the Ice elemental opens its eyes, Amelia gasps in awe. "Oh! Well, now thats a sight!!" she exclaims breathily.
As the rest of the party prepares to fight, Amelia dutifully draws her sword, but as she does so, she calls out to the creature in the languages that she knows. "Hello there! I don't suppose we can talk? What are you doing here?"
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At the recognition of the boulder being an actual creature, Willem first puts a hand to his sword. He doesn't draw it though and puts his other hand on Amelia's drawn blade to put it down. "Let's see if we can have him show us the way in. If you'll translate for me?"
He steps up to the golem. "Greetings. My friends and I have come to visit the very place you are protecting. We mean you no ill will and assure you that we are only here to catalog this amazing place that you so well protect. If you'll let us by or be so kind as to guide us through, we would gladly show you our appreciation."
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Amelia lowers her sword, and dutifully translates for Ser Willem, but adds in her own question at the end. "Your gestures say that we are not to pass. Is there any way in which we can be allowed to pass??" When finished, she turns to the rest of the party. "I think its saying that we are not allowed to pass. I added on my own question asking if there was any way it would let us.." [ooc]She also keeps a running translation for the rest of the group, letting them know everything that is said.
She then whispers in an undertone to her companions what she knows of this creature.