The Lion Sleeps Inn lies 35 miles northeast of Zimar. The 300 year-old, two-story structure was once a far more elaborate affair, back when mining was a going concern in the rocky foothills of the region. The once-rich veins of copper, iron, and silver played themselves out nearly 30 years ago, causing the hill settlements to shrink so that today they are mere shadows of their former selves, and traffic has been reduced to an anemic trickle.
As you push in the door you are met with a large, open room that has a 25-foot-high ceiling, with a wooden balcony above the west, north, and east walls. A large central fireplace is at the center of the room, and a second hearth is shared with the kitchen. However, only the shared hearth is lit. It crackles merrily as a pair of black iron pots bubble above.
Heavy oaken tables with sturdy benches are arranged about the room, and the walls boast the trophies of successful hunters of years gone by: taxidermied heads of various animals — elk, deer, lions, wolverines, etc. Over the kitchen hearth hangs the stuffed head of a manticore. Wooden stairs lead up to the balcony.
Just to the west of the entry door, firmly affixed to the wall, is a fancy bronze plaque of a sort not uncommon in various Taldan establishments—a marker that commemorates the visit of some historical notable. This one reads:
“Micheaux the Magnificent, Future Grand Prince of Taldor, Father of Stavian, Slept on these Premises on 5 Lamashan in the Year 4497.
May Divine Providence Reward Him as He Deserves.”
The date embossed on the plaque at the bottom is only 2 weeks after the commemoration date—19 Lamashan 4497.
The bar on the right wall is made of sturdy oak, is surrounded by tall stools, and has leaves that fold up at either end so that the barkeep may enter the common room. Below the bar are two washbasins and an array of goblets, mugs and tankards, as well as some tableware and a large cudgel, which the proprietor, Vadim, judiciously applies to the heads of patrons who have forgotten themselves.
Today Vadim is running himself and his help ragged. Dellum's offer of riches and glory has attracted a slew of adventurers with heavy pockets. Vadim is behind the bar while his mentally challenged son, Oleppo, cooks and adolescent nieces, Magand and Corrine, serve. They are all working furiously to keep up with demand. By the looks of things, Dellum himself has yet to arrive.
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An unarmored man in traveling clothes dressed very simply armed only with a scimitar at his belt lounges at the bar. His eyes don't really seem to miss anything though they also don't really stick to anything for any length of time. He is nursing an ale with a half eaten plate of the stew in front of him.
Leaning forward in his shadowed corner, Rathis -- like the man lounging at the bar -- watches everything. Though his gear looks well-used, like that typically belonging to adventurers, he carries no weapons. It's possible his mere looks are enough to defend himself in need, though. His muscles bulge -- almost too massive -- and his claws and fangs jut forth menacingly, making him look as much monster as half-orc.
Still, any who look beneath his cowl can see a canny intelligence in his brooding eyes.
Entering the Inn, folks see an attractive 6 foot 6 woman of Ulfen and Celestial Heritage
with Silver Hair, Silver, Eyes, And Silver Wings, wearing what looks like Silver Full Plate.
She approaches and sits at the bar (N2) and asks the Inn Keeper
"May I have a menu please."
Vadim does a double take before reaching behind him and grabbing a large piece of paper. It lists most of the normal local cuisine with an emphasis on meats and starches. The menu is slightly stained from use (you hope).
If ya want anything else, just ask and I'll see what I can do. No promises though. My cook a little on the dull side. He says as he scoops up one of the many floating cups from the cleaning basin in front of him.
Vadim nods and calls back to the kitchen, Oleppo! Throw another slab on for the lady here! He then turns back with a nod and a smile, It'll be a few minutes. I'll get your potatoes when it comes off.
She politely replies
"Thank you.."
The steak and potatoes take about 10 minutes to come out. They are done in a plain fashion, but not poorly. Valeria has plenty of time to eat.
Finally, a shorter man with brown hair, a pronounced chin and fine clothes trimmed in gold strides into the Lion Sleeps Inn. He walks like he owns the place and proceeds to a room in the northwestern corner. All eyes watch him as he walks.
A few minutes later, he calls each of you by name and beckons you to join him in the room.
When you enter you are met with a cheery fire in the hearth shared with the next room over to the east. There are two windows in the north wall and a table on the west. In the center is a large conference table of polished walnut.
Please, my friends, come, sit! He offers each of you a chair and a drink of fine wine.
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Omar will take the indicated chair and wine, but he doesn't actually drink any of it. No reason to trust this man. I've made enemies enough.
"Evidently you have us here at the hind end of nowhere for a reason. I can't imagine it is to sample the local vintage. So what is it? My time is plenty valuable and you have me well out of my way. "
Rathis sits, making sure his back isn't toward either the door or the windows, but doesn't even make a pretense of taking the wine.
He nods toward the stranger, impressed with the man's caution after his recent tavern experience with those who seemed to throw caution to the winds.
He turns toward their host and offers him his attention, one brown arching.
"I on the other hand have nothing but time," his cultured voice a strange contrast to his somewhat barbaric visage. "I'm impressed you were able to find me, in fact."
Valeria enters the room gracefully and sits a chair at the table.
"Evening, Dear Sir.
To what may I ask, is the task.
That you ask of me, The Silver Paladin.
As well as that of the others here"
Hanoris takes his seat and gets right to the point. I have gone to considerable lengths to find each of you and bring you here. While digging in some of the posessions that one of my dearly departed relatives left me, I came across evidence that I may be the last living scion of a disgraced Taldan noble House, the Adellas. My relation to them is indirect, to say the least, but when curiosity about the disgrace the family suffered years ago drove me to research my ancestry, I found that there really wasn't much to learn—the Adellas have been pronounced damnatio by the government, and as such, all public and even most private records of the family have been destroyed.
But I did find something—mention of the family’s secure and remote boneyard. So secret and well defended is this Necropolis that it has escaped the damnatio purge. It is known today as the Tomb of the Iron Medusa and is a relatively obscure site.
But I could hire anyone to crack an old tomb. Why you? Well, I believe that the Adellas were framed. Proof of this is nearly impossible to come by due to the aforementioned purge. The only proof left is likely inside that old burial ground.
I ask you to travel to this necropolis and explore it—to seek out the secrets hidden within the Tomb of the Iron Medusa, and to find proof that the rumors about the Adellas’ evil and disgrace were lies. In particular, I feel that the once-famous family sword, the intelligent Infensus Mucro, could be key in exonerating the family’s name.
I feel I must also point out that the vast treasures no doubt contained within the Tomb of the Iron Medusa could make brave adventurers rich, and that aside from the family sword and any proof you can find of falsehoods brought against the Adellas, I have no interest in those treasures—you can keep whatever else you find in the ancient necropolis. After all, I've done quite well for myself without such things.
So, what say you?
The second was the Voxus branch who withered under a literal civil war between twin brothers Vespacio and Vincenzo, who went so far as to field armies against one another. The crimes of their five murderous cousins may or may not have directly led to the fratricidal feud that dealt utter ruin to the Voxus branch in a single generation.
The third and last branch was the Daellum clan. At first, it seemed likely to weather the ignominious end of their cousins. The cunning and ruthless Bartolomae Adella, who led the Daellums, was an exemplary and highly successful commander in the Taldan military, and for some months it seemed that what had come to be known as the Adella curse had passed this final clan by. Yet Bartolomae went on to suffer a crushing military defeat on the fractious Qadiran frontier. Humiliated to the point of blasphemy (although some held that Bartolomae’s blasphemies were nothing new), he fell on his powerful sword Infensus Mucro in contrition, yet even this act was hardly salve enough to atone for the family’s military failure. Indeed, so appalled was Grand Prince Beldam II by the family’s impressive descent into murder, hubris, and blasphemy that he proclaimed the entire family damnatio—their memory was to be wiped from every public record and monument, and all members stripped forever of noble status.
Speaking for the first time, the Muscular, heavily armored man says "What will you do if it turns out that your family was rightly purged? I know that such things are not done lightly, but if such a thing was done due to lack of information the we would need to see this travesty set aright. Do you know what the charges against your family were?"
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"Adelias? Never heard of them, but I guess that was the point of the exercise now wasn't it? But a tomb to loot, that's right up my alley. Doubt you could find a better man for the job. Hope it is worthy of my time and talents though. I'd hate to go in a find a bunch of goblins and a few pit traps.. "
Given the famous sword is named Infensus Mucro I could see them being damned already.
I assure you, Omar bin Zayid, this tomb is very worthy. It was built during the struggle with Tar-Baphon. Families at that time, like the Adellas, spent fortunes to ensure that their dead were not only undisturbed, but that they stayed dead.
While he enjoyed the infrequent opportunities to travel beyond Cheliax, this particular summons was rather vague. fortunately he'd had time to check the Order's records before he left Citadel Enferac. Apparently the Lion Sleeps Inn had an interesting past, especially to make it into the Hellknight's records.
He'd never traveled to Taldor. Which necessitated a long voyage out of Pezzack. Which was a nigh adventure in itself, getting past the seditionists and finding charter on a boat to Corentyn. From there it was relatively easy to find comfortable passage on a fast cutter to Oppara, capital of Taldor. Once out of town, he quickly made haste on his phantom steed to the rendezvous.
Landing to one side of the other horses, Ferod's lips quirked in an ire smile as the other horses shied away from his own. Hooves smoking where they touched the ground had a tendency to do that. With a command to stay, he shook some moisture from his cloak, and checked his appearance. A Hellknight had an image to maintain, and this was no time to be missing finer details. A simple cantrip cleaned the travel mud and shined the bits up nicely. Arrayed in the commanding presence of a cloak and armor of a Hellknight, Ferod pushed open the doors of the inn and stepped through.
With such a long journey, he'd had plenty of time to acquaint himself with the history of the region. The plaque on the wall was interesting, but a minor detail. Just how many notices were sent out?
Brighid, his ever present companion and occasional nuisance, whispered in his mind, If your contact isn't here, you should take time for some R&R, you had all that time on the boat trip over and all you did was read, read, read. Why check that redhead in the corner, she's got some nice curves!
Shut your pages, lest I stuff you in the sack. We've business to attend to.
The Hellknight, imposing at over six feet in height, his crimson cloak bearing notice of his allegiance. A worn longbow hangs over one shoulder, peaking from under the cloak. A scimitar hangs in a left handed draw from the clean, but battle worn armor he wears. Lifting his gauntlet encased hands, he slowly lowers the hood of his cloak followed by the mailed coif covering his head.
Taking in the varied customers, Ferod slowly walks to a table in one corner, and eyes those sitting at the table, I am sitting here, you may remain, if you wish. Which of you is in my chair?
Before any of those at the table can respond, Ferod hears his name called. Keep my chair warm. Turning he walks across the room and enters.
A brief nod to the others, he sits next to the orcish one, a sound tactical seat. Passing on the wine, he listens intently.
I find it most interesting you were able to arrange my presence from Vicarius Torchia.
Learning if justice was served appropriately holds some academic interest. I shall proceed. My time has already been arranged through the Order.
Mr Dellum smiles at the mention of the Vicarius. Torchia and I had an exchange a while back. I was owed a favor. he shrugs. Hellknights are by far one of the easiest organizations to collect from. Your devotion to law makes business pleasantly straightforward.
Still, I thank you for being willing. I could arrange your presence, not your guaranteed participation.
" ... This is ... unlike ... previous jobs I've been hired for. I don't know how well it will suit me, but I think ... yes, I think I could come to prefer this type of work. Dealing with those already dead will make a nice change, indeed."
Rathis nods.
And what would you think of this, mother? Far from what you taught me life would be.
"I am Rathis," he says with a growl, introducing himself to his companions.
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"Yes, I suppose since we're to be working together, better to know names than just say 'hey you'. I'm Omar bin Zayed of the Pathfinder Society. I've delved more than my share of tombs and ruins. I'm a good shot with a boy and a competent scout. I'm also very familiar with traps both setting them up and taking them down. "
After everyone is quickly introduced, Hanoris retrieves a white marble funerary baton from a pouch and places it on the table. When I first discovered my connection to the family, I put significant effort into researching the Adellas. As you can imagine there is almost nothing left of the family's holdings or even records of their holdings, but I did manage to discover that this very inn was once owned by the family. It was in a hidden panel behind the plaque you saw when you entered that I found this baton.
Hanoris then twists the top of the baton, causing the tip to pop open and reveal a hollow inside containing a rolled parchment. He pulls it out and passes it around for each of you to see.
I believe that in the Adellas’ last days, one of their members wrote the lines on this parchment as a sort of guide or map, in the hope that they could guide future descendants through the wards and defenses of the tomb so that proof of the falsehoods could be found.
I haven’t been able to find more information about the parchment, but I suspected that the “Slumbering Cat” mentioned in the first line refers to the Lion Sleeps Inn. Working from this assumption, I spent several weeks exploring the lands northeast of the inn, and after some time confirmed my hunch, finding the necropolis in the foothills of the World’s Edge Mountains. I have not the courage nor skill to explore the necropolis itself, but I suspect that both the poem and the baton itself are the keys to entering the ruins.
I will be staying here at the Inn. When you are finished, report back here. As I said, I would like the sword, Infensus Mucro, and any proof of my family's innocence, but any other treasures you come across are yours.
Have you any questions for me?
"Omar has taken the questions from my own mouth. Any further information you can give us will be of great use."
Hanoris raises his hands in apology. I am sorry by friends. Along those lines I can offer only this. The necropolis, in local folk tales, is rumored to have been built by a medusa of great skill. I cannot say if this is a remnant of fact that has survived the purge in local folklore, or if it is folklore that has arisen from the Adellas' house crest that can be seen on the walls of the place. If it is the former, then the creatures you meet within may be powerful, indeed.
As the others wrap up their questions, Corso asks "is there anything else you think would be helpful for us to know before we go traipsing about looking for your family's tomb?"
"As far as introductions go, my name is Baron Corso Altaire, and I am considered by some to be a great hero of Taldor. While I don't know about all that, I am a gifted physical combatant who believes in leading from the front. Also, I sometimes rub people the wrong way. To be fair, it's mainly the people who are trying to murder my companions or myself."
Dellum scratches his chin in thought for a long moment before saying, The only other thing I can think of is it might help you to know the reasons my family was declared Damnatio. I believe it to be lies, as I said, but knowledge can never hurt in these situations.
He then describes the downfall of House Adellas.
A brisk nod to the others, Paravicar Ferod Coulserk, Signifier of the Order of the Gate, of Citadel Enferec, Cheliax. My contribution will most likely be supporting with sword and spell.
"It's indeed a sad story, if it's true," Rathis murmurs as Dellum finishes his tale. "But we won't get to the bottom of it by sitting here, so perhaps we should be on our way.
"I do want to stop and get a mirror is we can find one, though. Medusae are no easy foe. If we can find some stone salve as well, that might be worth the investment, though I'm not sure I can afford it on my own at the moment."
Dellum bids you good bye and you proceed to find a mirror that the barkeep willingly parts with for only a few coins. Never used it anyway..., he says. Unfortunately, a mirror is about as advanced as the local shopping gets.
"Though I already know of Baron Corso from a number of small and medium jobs.
For the rest of you I am Valeria Ingrid Bridgette. Honuorary Ulfen Guard, Paladin of Kurgress, and also nicknamed The Silver Paladin.
I'll be in the front fighting, providing healing and if need be in the air."
"For this job, I think it would be best to know what we are up against, as things are not always as they seem."
Time does not appear to be a pressing matter. I can provide us transportation to a market with a slightly greater selection of goods. This will necessitate adding a day or two before we head off into the wilds. While I have not traveled much outside of Cheliax, I can get us to Absalom. I expect we should be able to get anything we need there.
Ferod turns to Omar, prepared... That is a most interesting statement. Prepared for some sort of quest? I am sure that we are all 'prepared' for such. For most of us it is likely second nature to always be 'prepared.' It is quite another thing to be 'prepared' for a medusa. As if they were found in every hamlet across Avistan. I personally find myself more 'prepared' for dealing with devils and demons. I do not frequently deal with vampires and red dragons. And while I would prevail, it is foolish to go into a dragon's den with boar spears. Nor would I willingly go into Irrisen dressed for a trek into Osirion.
Ferod stands and heads for the door, And only a fool would not take any opportunity to ensure their preparations were sufficient to known information.
Looking around at the others, Ferod states, Travel to Absalom leaves in five minutes. We will return tomorrow, at dawn.
Ferod heads outside and dismisses his steed, its services no longer needed.
"Courage doesn't mean we must tread into danger without taking precautions. If we have time to make sure we are better prepared to face a medusa, I personally will choose to take it. Even with my mind dulled, I still possess the brains to know to do so. I will take you up on your offer, Ferod."
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"You people do make me laugh. This is a tomb many centuries old and all we have in the way of warning is that a medusa designed it, so now you're running off assuming it will be packed to the gills with them. Medusas are mortal. They don't live for centuries.
Go on, I'm not stopping you, go and spend your coin on threats we know nothing of in specific. Make sure you are all stacked up against something which likely isn't even there. My point, which apparently didn't get absorbed, is that if you don't already know how to come equipped for most situations, I have to wonder how you garnered any of the repute you now claim. If you aren't here already equipped for things likely to be found in abandoned places I wonder what kind of experience you actually have.
In any case I'll be waiting here so the Knight of the big mouth can come back finally ready. "
and he will head back to the tap room and get a drink. Damn, I'm going to have to be on my game, I don't know that I can trust the competence of any of this lot. At least in the Society I knew most agents had been there and back a few times on this kind of mission.
"But isn't assuming that there won't be a medusa just as bad? Tell me, oh world weary traveler, how do you plan on dealing with one if it presents itself? Also, I would consider modifying my tone if I were you. Insulting the people into whose hands you are placing your life is not a smart way to keep breathing. I thought you pathfinders were a smarter lot than that." Chuckling and shaking his head, he adds "oh, and for what it's worth, insulting a noble, much less a pair of them, is a crime in my country. Now I don't care, and likely neither does Valeria, but again, you should be mindful of your surroundings." With that, The Baron takes a draw from his mug, belches in appreciation, then leans back in his chair. "That being said, I don't actually need any equipment beyond what I normally carry. I'll be waiting here for your return trip."
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"I've dealt medusas before and if I have to I will again. They really aren't much trouble especially if you can keep your distance like I can. As for insults, if the truth insults you, I think that is more your problem than mine. But of course, I mean no offense in telling the truth, only to educate those who need it. " and will will turn back to his drink muttering under his breath "amateurs".
"Your 'truth' assumes that everyone does things the exact same way as you do. Some people choose to gather specific equipment to deal with whatever specific threats they're aware of after assessing the situation on the ground. Most adventurers do not carry things to deal with medusas on them, as carrying capacity is typically limited. Even a stud like myself can only carry so much." He pauses for a moment to take another draw from his mug before continuing "and then some people, like myself, deal with pretty much all threats the same way: get in the things face and take advantage every time they try to focus on something else." Corso drains his mug, catches the attention of the serving girl and points at his cup, before finishing "it sounds to me like you are among the third way of doing things: you're a generalist. You don't focus heavily into any one combat style. You can shoot people in the face and hope that your allies are between you and the thing you're shooting, or you can draw that blade you got hanging from your hip and move into combat. Nothing wrong with that style either, but every style has drawbacks: The first group can be at a disadvantage when dealing with something unusual, the second group often have to deal with odd situations by trying to power through using the only tools at their disposal, and the third group are more reliant on help from other people."
"And muttering sarcastic comments under your breath is something that children do, not professional adventurers." Taking his new mug, he tips the waitress a silver piece then continues drinking.
"Now gentleman, it's true that taking precautions is better than rushing in, but we should find out more if we can.
As I don't want us to be made out to be fools, coming back after a painful and humiliating beating from one event."
"As for the Medusa, the fact she has the nickname The Iron Medusa could mean we are not going to be dealing with a normal Medusa, if there is one there."
"The fact that we are entering a necropolis like Tomb has high odds we'll be dealing with undead of one kind or another."
"Insulting each other and cheesing them off is not a good idea gentlemen as we'll be together on this job.
And for those that think they can do anything here, your wrong.
Your in Taldor, Me and Corso have authority to arrest you."
"And Mr Zayed, Me and Corso are not amateurs.
We had our Nicknames before you even got your first mission.
And you don't want to annoy The Black Wolf* any more than you have."
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"I think you confuse sarcasm with analysis, but to each their own. We'll see how things go. I'm not stopping anyone from their preparations, and I didn't prompt this discussion. I merely said I was already prepared and those who felt they weren't, I would wait here for. I suppose since we two are going to be sitting in this bar while they go on a shopping spree this argument is about as good a topic of discussion as any."
and he will drink a bit more
"I'm generally ok standing right in front of my foes while shooting them in the face. I've done it before safely, and I can can repeat it. Not that I object to people standing up front, but I have been on all sorts of missions with the Society with a very varied complement of agents, and one thing I learned was to never expect to have someone else there to provide what you need to survive. "
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"You people certainly do get your backs up easily don't you? Well I apologize that I have offended your august presences and hope you make amends in my own lowly ways by keeping traps from killing you on the mission. You can go off to buy your toys and trinkets and I'll not have you tarry on my account. " and while it's not quite dripping with sarcasm, it is certainly evident.
"I'm already ready, for our first stint in.
Any information we find that points to something I'm not prepared for, I'll prepare for it."