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On the Grinning Pixie’s deck, Venture-Captain Calisro Benarry stands defiantly amid the howling wind and driving rain. The powerfully built half-orc’s voice carries over the storm. “There!” she yells, pointing to the northwest. “We’ve reached the Gloomspires.” As if on cue, numerous impossibly narrow fingers of black rock suddenly appear in the distance. The unnatural structures exude a sensation of unnatural and profound dread. Benarry laughs deeply as the sensation descends.
“I bet you’re glad to be back to these gods-accursed spires! I sent in another team to continue the good work you started, and things didn’t go so well. You’re the closest thing to an expert on this rock we have, so I’m trusting you to bring the team through this mission safely.”
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She leans in closer. “Let’s review some of the details of your mission.” Her eyebrows furrow. “Two months ago, I sent another team of Pathfinders to Old Sevenfingers’s tomb aboard a Thuvian caravel called the Pride of Aspenthar. The Pride and the Pathfinders never returned to Drenchport. Divinations confirmed that the ship was lost. It apparently sank after transporting the Pathfinders to the tomb, but no Pathfinders were on board. I sent the team into the second level of the tomb—a place called the Labyrinth of Hungry Ghosts. I put a veteran explorer named Jaohd Ilzinian in charge of the team. He’s a paladin of Shelyn known for his skill at fighting against things that should be dead."
“Ilzinian’s team carried the Orb of Stars with them. It’s a powerful magic item that freezes the Gloomspires in place so they can be explored safely. As you can see,” she says, gesturing to the spires, “the orb isn’t working. In the last few minutes, those columns have shifted twice. Without the orb, the spires only stand still on the solstice.”
Benarry allows her words to sink in before continuing. “The solstice begins in a few hours, so you’ll be able to make your way to the tomb just fine. I need you to climb up to Sevenfingers’s tomb, find out what happened to the Pathfinders, and recover the Orb of Stars. Also, I let Jaohd borrow Old Flotsam, my folding boat. She’s precious to me, and I’d really like her back.”
A sudden flash of lighting and the roar of distant thunder punctuate the captain’s words, and she smirks. ”Sounds simple enough, don’t it? The spires will stay in place for three days. If you find the orb, you’ll get two weeks. If you stay longer than that, you lubbers might run into trouble sailing back out. I’ll circle the Pixie around the spires for three weeks just in case. Any questions before you jump in the rowboat?”
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You might also know some stuff:
DC 20+: Since the time of the Ghol-Gan Empire, many of the Gloomspires have been explored, and some have even been claimed and repurposed by other beings. Of these, Sevenfingers’s tomb is the most well known.
DC 25+: The Gloomspires are inundated with strange, reality-warping effects. The columns occasionally shift their positions, and many explorers report feeling a sense of wrongness and foreboding just from being in the area. This bizarre magic also makes teleportation and plane- traveling magic very difficult, though summoning spells tend to function normally.
DC 30+: A humanoid race of powerful sorcerers called the Makers constructed the Gloomspires during the Age of Serpents. The Makers are believed to have escaped enslavement in a nightmarish realm and fled to Golarion.
DC 20+: From his dreaded flagship, the Voracious, Sevenfingers commanded a small fleet of pirate ships. His practice of using kuru cannibals to augment his boarding parties inspired fear and hatred across the Shackles.
DC 25+: Sevenfingers was a powerful wizard who dabbled in necromancy and communed with evil outsiders, entities from the Dark Tapestry, and other beings from unspeakable realms beyond Golarion.
DC 30+: Sevenfingers had dealings with the denizens of Leng. His flagship, the Voracious, was actually a black ship of Leng, gifted to Sevenfingers by his dreadful allies.
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A young female gnome calls out from the back of the cabin.
"Hi all..that sounds creepy. Do we know what else is down in the tomb? Are there undead? I know undead like to lives in tombs. Who is everyone else? I don't know you guys. I'm Lilli a priest of Erastil. This is my friend Rufus." She points to the riding dog. "He's friendly...Are we going to get anything to eat cause I'd like to eat something. She contines to ramble until Rufus shakes his head and licks her face.
"OK I've talked enough...Rufus says I should be quiet. I'll try to be quiet on the mission. Sometimes it's hard when I get curious."
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"Hi all..that sounds creepy. Do we know what else is down in the tomb? Are there undead? I know undead like to lives in tombs. [...]
Captain Benarry reels in response to Lilli's rapid-fire questions.
"We don't know what's in the Labyrinth. That's why we sent aohd Ilzinian and his companions--to find out!"
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Picture of Avril, though she normally has a lance, not a sword and wears a breastplate. and a picture of Cryxial
A beautiful, but short, raven haired human girl dressed in a polished mithral breastplate with a number of different weapons strapped to her back sits atop a black scaled beast, a four legged lizard like creature. Both of them have a glowering silver triangle on their foreheads. She nods and smiles towards the others. "I'm Avril Axiel and my companion is Cryxial."
"the Labyrinth of Hungry Ghosts? I encountered some ghost-like creatures at my last mission, it was supposed to be a party, but ghosts and demons showed up. My weapons couldn't hurt them, nor could Cryxial's claws. That's why I got this amulet." She reaches forward to stroke Cryxial's neck and also touch the shiny new magical amulet that hangs there.
"I know a fair bit about keeps. I run one myself in between missions, but I don't think I'll be much help figuring out stuff like the magic that drives that place or the orb. My own magic keeps surprising me, I got enough with that if I didn't have to deal with other's magic as well. Just the other day I learned a way to make people move much faster. With that I was able to be of help when my weapons proved ineffective."
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Uthred greets the newcomer human and gnome with feigned indifference. He appears to them as a half elf in rough furs of the north in a dwarven style. He has two sabres strapped to his belt and a longbow stashed alongside a quiver on his back. He has a braided beard any dwarf would be envious of and has the look of an outdoorsman. He grunts in their general direction and holds up his mug of ale as a greeting.
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From below decks, a tall, strong, and absolutely hideous half-orc emerges. Apparently he has been sleeping, eating pies, or likely both.
He wears full plate armor and a red cloak, so battered it is hardly wearable. Fastening his cloak at the neck is a shiny silver brooch of Ragathiel. He carries a finely crafted nodachi with a blade of solid adamantine. He sees the new group members, which he had not seen before given the lengthy time he has spent resting below. He addresses them in a cocky tone, full of hubris.
"Harrow Tatterhood is name. Some things to know about Harrow. Harrow strongest enforcer of Ragathiel, and Harrow want righteous vengeance. Some might think smarter than Harrow, but Harrow fight for right, and also fight to show Harrow stronger than anyone! Harrow will be in front-line taking names, and also knows how to make people poop pants."
Something about the half-orc seems especially intimidating, as if he could make good on his promise.
At the mention of ghosts, the half-orc says "But Harrow not sure if ghosts poop...or if they wear pants," he trails off.
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"Captain Benarry, do you know how this level of the Gloomspires received the name, The Labyrinth of Hungry Ghosts? Any legends that might hold a hint of truth?"
"Also, who was this Jaohd Ilzinian? What was his skillset? Fighter, lover, thinker? If we encounter him, it would be good if we knew something of him. Was he famous in your Pathfinder group and I, a relative newcomer to this plane, may not know of him?"
A tickle begins in Mareq ibn Shamiri's spine. Something is not right here, perhaps even more not-right than the usual adventuring he's been thrust into since coming to the Golarion. Unconsciously he strokes the battered lamp at his waist. With each caress he feels stronger and more powerful.
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Neither! :) There is a comically small landing (or tragically small, depending on your outlook) at the base of the spire. Thence you have a two-hour climb up stairs hewn into the side of the spire. The stairs wrap around the spire.
"Captain Benarry, do you know how this level of the Gloomspires received the name, The Labyrinth of Hungry Ghosts? Any legends that might hold a hint of truth?"
"We don't know what's in anything about the Labyrinth--aside from its name and the fact that it's there. That's why we sent Jaohd Ilzinian and his companions--to find out!"
"Also, who was this Jaohd Ilzinian? What was his skillset? Fighter, lover, thinker? If we encounter him, it would be good if we knew something of him. Was he famous in your Pathfinder group and I, a relative newcomer to this plane, may not know of him?"
"Jaohd is a Taldan paladin who worships Shelyn. He’s tall and scrawny, with gray eyes and red hair. He joined the Society thirteen years ago and become an expert on spirits and haunts. His longsword, a fine blade he calls Ether’s Kiss, can hurt creatures with no real body of their own. Jaohd went into the Gloomspires with four other agents: the Taldan twins Alrasus and Naphinia, known for their quick fingers and quicker wits; Zumek, a Kellid warrior who could wrestle a crocodile and win; and Yetisiel, an elf with the power of storms in her blood."
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Other information:
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Benarry gives the party two pouches of grave salt (Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Equipment, page 301) and a wand of ghostbane dirge (Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player’s Guide, page 225) wrapped in a shroud. The wand has 6 charges remaining.
She explains, “That ratty scrap of cloth is connected to Sevenfingers himself. A mystic old sea dog performed a ritual to connect it to the wand. He said it should make the magic item more effective in the Gloomspires, as long as you don’t unwrap it. You let me know if he was trying to pull something on me, and I’ll go get my coin back.”
Beyond that, the Grinning Pixie’s quartermaster can sell you nearly any mundane or alchemical gear in addition to magic items worth 2,500 gp or less.
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"So what does these items do? Having magic items be more effective is useful. Sadly I don't have a magic weapon myself, but this oil should help with that if needed." She pats a potion lidded jar hanging from her belt.
"Either way, lets move on. Unless someone got any suggestions for gear I absolutely need to get before we head in. I got a bit cash, but not overly much."
"Oh yeah, one more thing, not that it has anything to do with ghosts or the mysteries of the tower... But if we do end up in a fight... I would be a lot more effective if I can charge directly at the enemy, so if you could leave a clear path for that, it would be much appreciated."
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Berosius listens thoughtfully, but doesn't ask any questions. His own interests lay in spirits, which are nothing like ghosts, though most people seem to confuse the two, and in the liberation of the oppressed. The plucky halfling wonders if ghosts might be considered to be trapped and therefore in need of liberation.
"It must be awful to be a ghost,", he says in what probably appears to be a statement unrelated to the conversation. "Like being in a prison you probably don't even know is there. Just an eternal feeling of being trapped. Never laughing or having any hope of a jolly time. I feel sorry for them."
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Climbing the narrow, winding steps to the top of Sevenfinger’s tomb takes 2 hours. The tomb’s summit is covered with thick tropical foliage, most reaching the height of 30 to 40 feet.
You know the dimensions of the gloomspire. The top of it has been explored and mapped by Pathfinders before! But, the place as twisted geometry. Every time you lose your gaze upon something or are otherwise visually distracted during your long climb, things seem different.
For example, when you climb the stairs from one landing to another, you can see that the next one is roughly 20 feet above and ahead. But, when you look back and then return your gaze ahead (without otherwise moving), it looks like it is roughly 30 feet ahead. Blink, and now it looks like it is only 10 feet ahead.
You recall stories of how this confounded previous expeditions. Despite countless attempts to reconcile the numbers, explorers find the straight-sided columns are a uniform 120 feet across, yet the summits often measure as much as 180 feet to a side.
Additionally, a palpable sense of wrongness saturates the Gloomspires. Shadows flicker and move in unnatural directions, strange sounds and unidentifiable scents tease the senses, and alternating sensations of claustrophobia and agoraphobia periodically assail you.
After your 2-hour ascent to the top of the gloomspire, you see a lush canopy of tropical trees, flowering vines, and thick undergrowth forms a dark green wall around this small clearing. To the south is the edge of the column, and a sheer 500-foot drop.
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Atop the Gloomspire, you find conditions are no better. There is an unnatural, cloying mist.
The summit of the gloomsire is covered with thick tropical foliage, most reaching the height of 30 to 40 feet. (Though, really, you cannot see the tops of the foliage, so how would you know?)
You also hear a shrill voice yell (from somewhere in the mist): "I'll cut off yer toes if ye don' reveal yer boat's location!" It is clear that this verbal threat is NOT directed at the party.
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"There are tracks of humans here." Come the deep rumbling voice of Avril's mount. His voice is way too deep for a human, but otherwise he speaks perfect common. "We should be on our guard, though it could be the other pathfinders." Avril says before bolstering her defenses with the spell shield.
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"S̐̌̍̐҉̲̳̬̱̺̰̕h̒̓̀҉͓̬̬̻̦̬̺͉̳i͉̲̹̤͓̮͉ͫͪ̿̂̉ͯ̿̃̎e̝̘̮̰̜̹͉ͭ͒̆̀́ͅl̮͖̗͋̇̅͐͜͝d̂̀̌̽͐ ̧̮̳͈͉̻̺̿͢ ̺̣̟̯̗̆͒ͫ̓̅́̄͆̕͟m̛̮̪̠͚̰̫͇ͯ͆͒̍͋̋̒̓ͮe̮̖̜̝̤̽̌ͩ̉̇ ̤͓̞̙̲͈́̓ͫͪ͌ͬ͟f͔͈̞̲̤̪̠̉̆͢͡r̡̛̝̘̙̠̯̼̥̃ͮ̎ͬͬ͊ͮ̾ͮ͟ō̑͠҉͓͈m̢̰̽͗͊͛̄ͮ͐͠ ̥͇̹͍̱̫̳͐͊̽ͪ͑̒̇̄ͩ͜͞h͇͙̩̰̘̏ͯͭ̂̐͟a̧̰̍̊̿̏ͫ͒͒̋r͓͈̩̋̌̐̿̌ͩͅm̦̙͂̏́͗ͬ͝"
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Avril then moves carefully forward, her lance drawn. "Let's advance as a group, at least those of us dealing with melee, lest we be caught in a fight all by our own." Avril suggests.
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Atop the Gloomspire finally, Mareq halts. The mist coils about him, chilling even his preternaturally warm skin.
The sense of wrongness only enhances his sense of concern from earlier.
Mmmmm. It is time once again. Atop the Gloomspire I must summon my own Gloomsire, I suppose, he thinks.
The ifrit opens his cloak and pulls forth a battered brass lamp. Little dents festoon the lamp, as if it had been struck repeatedly, but only small strikes. Each cruel strike, each little teasing and malicious dent only enough to damage it, but not destroy it.
With his remaining hand Mareq draws a small brass hammer, the head of which is exactly the size of the dents in the lamp.
"Come out. Come out, wherever you are! Heh, heh. Oh, yes, I know where you are. In your little room. Your abode. Your... cage," he whispers. Then he strikes the lamp with the brass hammer. Again. And again. "Out of there, you genie t%$&! OUT I SAY!" he screams, smashing the lamp repeatedly, until it caves in, the spout bent, the sides smashed inwards.
Smoke puffs out of the lamp, a bloody black and blue bruise-like color. The smoke coalesces (in what is surely a trick of the light), until it oozes from the wrecked lamp's sides like blood. The bloody smoke spins upward in a gyre until it forms the body of a hulking red skinned, bruised and bleeding efreeti: Husarq al-Shamir.
"I am here, oh my Master. Ready to serve your will, oh Most Glorious One. Genius of the Planes, Master of All You See, Teacher of Retribution, Creator of Wonder and Power, Greatest Upon Golarion, my blade is yours, as always and forever," the efreeti says, bowing his bruised and bleeding head, laying his great, curved efreet scimitar upon the ground before Mareq.
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Avril casts in a "strong voice." Mareck bangs on his lamp.
Free Action: "Boss, we ain't alone."
Free Action: "I know, fool!"
Initiatives:
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Mareq's eyes go wild when he hears his thrall, Husarq, recite the numerous honorifics. Each eye's iris frays a bit into flame-like color and a rictus of hatred distorts his face for a moment, before it passes away, a temporary wave upon the dark sea of Mareq's countenance.
Mareq raises his hammer to strike Husarq... and then drops his arm.
"Yes. Yes. 'Glorious One.' 'Creator of Wonder.' Yes. Yes. Good." Mareq sounds surprised, finding nothing wrong with Husarq's address. But then, his madness foiled (?) for the moment, Mareq becomes angry at not being angry, angry at Husarq's well-delivered obeisance. He turns and spits halfheartedly into Husarq's face. <ptew>
"Of COURSE your blade is mine! I bought it! I created it! I gave it to you!" he says with a sneer. "Don't say such stupidly obvious things. Hmph. Pick up al-Saif and take your place at the fore."
Husarq bows his head, takes he great unsheathed blade, and trudges to the front of the group.
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Free Action: "Boss, we ain't alone."
Free Action: "I know, fool!"
Damn S&*$-for-Brains! His foolish honorifics, really unnecessary for such a humble person as myself, have given us away! DAMN HIM! thinks Mareq to himself. He must be punished after this is all over. Perhaps he will die. Yes. A ghost will kill him. A suitable punishment indeed.
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Enemies Group 1
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Three touch-looking, grizzled sailors shoot heavy crossbows at the first person in the group.
Mareck is up!
Mareck: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21
Enemies Group 2: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
Avril: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
Harrow: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Uthred: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Lilli: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
Berosius: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4
Husarq steps forward and swings at the northern most grizzled sailors.
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Husarq renders one of the crossbow-wielding enemies unconscious!
Enemies Group 2
, miss!
, ,
, , miss!
Three more crossbow wielding combatants fire at Avril. Two of them miss. But, one bolt finds purchase in its taget's flesh dealing 5 more HP of damage.
Now the pain... The dinosaur is going to trample you all. :-(
Targets of a trample can make an attack of opportunity, but at a –4 penalty. If targets forgo an attack of opportunity, they can attempt to avoid the trampling creature and receive a Reflex save to take half damage. Please decide your action and roll accordingly.
I've updated the map and placed the dino in his final position after the trample.
BEFORE we continue with initiative, please sort out your reactions to the trample (reflex save or attack of opportunity). It's probably going to be reflex saves for most of you, since you're almost all flat-footed. :(