Gad speaks up, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Viv...this could be a trap. Or worse, he could lead us off a cliff in the dark with his craziness.
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"I trust him," says the paladin who trusts everyone.
He rushes over and begins to pack his belongings, then asks Vivian to help him don his full plate.
"He knows where the Razmirans are! We will catch them in no time, and then..." Allister knows what will happen next. People will die. He has trained many years for moments just like this, but he feels no joy. The idea of war and killing is full of glory in song and story, but there is nothing great or enviable about taking a life.
Trap or not do we have any choice but to follow?
Brezik immediately begins to pack , making sure to collect Qina's cooking supplies. When he's collected all his belongings he heads to the tent where the lizard-men have been tied up. He gets out some dried meat and sets it down next to the unconscious forms. Then when the party is ready to leave he cuts the bindings on the lizard-men.
Sorry about the rough treatment fella's. I'm sure that it's this blasted cursed island's fault that you are the way you are.
Gad nods at his friend's determination and moral character. A swelling of pride for their accomplishments so far gives Gad more hope suddenly than he expected.
"OK. That's fine. Let us go then? But let's keep our eyes open!"
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While waiting for everyone to gather their belongings Dremlock pulls out an extremely battered journal and piece of charcoal, seeming to write an extremely detailed description of his surroundings and speaking aloud his observations.
"In the edge of the swamp, surrounded by corpses of lizards and masked men. Will have to use some offal to keep my protective stench. Also surrounded by breathing people.
One dwarf, well on his way to getting a protective stench of his own, should survive. One samsaran, going about and morning the dead in the way old priests do. Not smart, will likely fall if he continues to be distracted. Two humans, helping each other put on armor. The woman moans, barely audible, every time she touches iron, the man seems not to notice and is focused internally, possibly awaiting bloodshed. One Halfling, efficient with a hidden tattoo. Sunny disposition with a chilling aura about her, evidence of negative energy strike on her body. One half-orc, focused, moves precisely, may be too focused on perfection to be able to handle mess. Will most certainly need stench to survive."
"Hey Brezik, doesn't he remind you of old man Hormace? You remember, the old smelly guy that went crazy?" Qina blushed as she looked at the man.
"Wait, what? How do you know about my tattoo? Who are you?" She glanced back at the others one by one. Crazy as he was, he seemed to know more than he possibly could have deduced in the few minutes that he had been in their company. Perhaps he had been in the company longer than that...but how? It made no sense to Qina, and it started to make her head hurt.
'Venture Captain'? it seems we have found one of the lost pathfinders... in body at least.
showing unusual social grace with the insane man Belathorian chats as he prepares to leave
"I do not morn the dead sir. They have passed to other realms, I just try to make the passing as right as possible. We all pass into my ladies garden in time. It seems you have returned from that place. If what you say is true then you are a holy man, twice-born."
The man quits writing as Qina and Belathorina address him. His smile is craggy and reveals several missing teeth. "Dusan Dremlock, Pathfinder and...and..." He sniffs and his eyes water, though it is difficult to see with all of the rain. "EXPLORER!" he howls finally. He rages and pulls at his hair, shaking it at you once more. He calms after only a few moments and scratches at the arrow stuck in his calf. "Following, moved too fast. Watched during battle and sleep. Movement revealed part of tattoo, led belief in memories. Seen type before."
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After Viv and Allister are suited up she looks at everyone a bit embarrassed, "I.. I don't know what he thought he heard over all this storm noise.. he's obviously mad." She holds a scale from her scale mail between thumb and forefinger, rubbing it as she talks. "Quite the expert at navigating this place as well, following us for half the time we've been here. This is advantageous that he can bring us directly to the Razmirans and whatever unholy temple lies before us, and likely without them noticing..." As she begins to muse on the strategy of a surprise ambush out of the dense growth, Vivian absentmindedly slides her palm down the scale mail of her flank. She then notices and stops herself, straightening her arms and balling her hands into fists.
"Dusan Dremlock, if you are an honest man we will get you off this island once our work is through. This will be as payment for aid and the service of our guide in the place. Do you understand what I mean by honest? All of us here shall remain breathing people. Does this deal suit you?"
Gad never liked being judged by anybody, much less a mad man who thinks attempting to achieve perfection is a bad thing. Gad attempts to mellow his anger with pity.
"This man has lost a lot. Death? His soul? Maybe. Anything could be going on with this blasted island! Whatever the case, if you all think he can help us, then let us go soon."
Packed and idle Bel does his best to inspect the man, specifically the arrow in his leg...
"Nasty wound that, would you like me to take a look for you?"
"We should go with him. I mean, if he wanted to hurt us, he could have done so already...right? He doesn't seem so bad, doesn't smell much worse than...we should go with him" Qina finished while trying not to look at Brezik.
Dusan nods his head eagerly with Vivian's words, pointing frantically to the east. As Belathorian asks about his leg wound he begins to blubber a little. Between sobs you can barely make out, "Approached masked men. Angry. Chased through swamp and shot." The wound continues leaking blood and pus as Dusan moves around, not quite understanding that he would need to remain still for Belathorian to look at it.
Dusan looks particularly proud of his stench when Allister asks him about it. He gives a long and convoluted story about being chased by shadow demons during his first year of survival. He is insistent that the stench alone is what has kept him safe for all these years, and that should he bathe he would be dead in days. At the end of his explanation he begins making suggestions on how best to get such a stench, making several creative uses of offal, excrement, decaying objects, and more.
"One stop before City of Golden Death, then straight to gate."
Dusan leads you through the swamp, showing you the safe paths around the quicksand and territorial creatures, stopping at a small cave. Inside are all of his earthly possessions: a couple of ratty backpacks, a broken short sword, a moldy blanket, a waterskin, and a heavy wooden shield missing half its circumference. A barrel stands at the back of the cave, in which he’s piled an assortment of tubers, leaves, and dried meat of indeterminate origin. He stuffs both backpacks full of food, straps the broken shield on his back and the broken short sword at his waist, and grabs the waterskin, using it to point at the PCs as he talks to them or explains anything about the local wildlife.
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Vivian is quiet while they're at the cave. First year of survival... when did they say a group of Pathfinders has been sent here again?
The broken sword and shield are slightly amusing to Vivian. When she sees them she nods to the others, indicating Should we equip him? He seems to be such a mess Viv seriously doubts if proper weapons would be much help. But somehow he survived this long...
Otherwise she wishes to make the stop at the cave a short one and continue onto the City of Golden Death.
You've done well for yourself here Duran but you're amongst friends, and one of them is on his way to be a master dwarven metal smith. I will not allow you to walk around with such shoddy gear.
Brezik takes the Duran's short sword and examines it. Good metal. Should prolly be reforged... but we don't have time for that.. Brezik holds the blade out and puts a sharpening stone to it. . He then takes off his own armored coat and places it on the man. Assuming he doesn't object the dwarves smith then takes a few moments to adjust the straps and padding on it. Looking at the mans broken shield Brezik just shakes his head and hands Duran his own light steel shield.
There that's better. Don't worry about the armor... Qina will take care of me when the time comes. She always does.
Dusan lets Brezik take his sword but refuses his armor and shield, not explaining why, but adamant on the point nonetheless.
The remaining journey to the City of Golden Death, as Dusan continues to call it, is harrowing but fairly easy. True to his word the crazed Pathfinder shows you the areas to avoid, dodging quicksand, fierce mutated beasts, and bringing you through the safest parts of the plains and swamp. Still the rain and lightning does not let up, keeping you on your toes to avoid any more strikes.
Despite the swiftness of your journey it seems long because of Dusan. His ramblings and ravings never seem to quit, nor do his suggestions and examples of how to maintain and create "stench". Whenever you stop to rest he pulls out his journal once more to write in it, always describing his surroundings, which...usually include you, in a less than flattering light. 8 hours of travel later and he points ahead, "City of Golden Death!"
The entrance to Xin-Grafar stands ahead—two enormous stone doors, each thirty feet high and fifteen feet wide, covered in carved, vertical wavy lines. The left-hand door stands open, a complex internal mechanism of worked stone and metal clockwork gears visible along the door’s side about halfway up. The doors are recessed about ten feet into the side of a large, grass-covered hill and tilt slightly inward. A firepit smolders beside the right-hand door, tiny tendrils of smoke still curling skyward from its coals.
Gad will wave to Brezik and move ahead to scout, as silently as possible.
Brezik returns Gad's wave and shuffles forward trying to keep up with the faster moving monk. He casts his eyes about taking in every detail. He grabs Gad's wrist and points to the fire...and mouths the word "smoke". He makes a little wave around the clearing and starts looking to see if the Razmiran's have left a welcoming party.
Standing in front of the giant doors was awe inspiring to Qina. Never before had she seen something so large and functional before. It was like it was built by giants...or gods...or giant gods.
As Gad and Brezik began to move towards the doors, Qina jumped and chased after Gad. "Oh no you don't. Your not going off to get into trouble without your armor!" Her little legs rushed after Gad and once she caught up to him, she quickly traced a little shield on the back of his calf.
She looked at Brezik but figuring his trusted armored coat would protect him, she moved back and headed towards Dusan. She smiled as she offered the man her hand.
Dusan smiles down at Qina, not knowing what she is doing, and all the more receptive because of it. He waits, quiet for once, with the rest of the group as Gad and Brezik scout ahead.
Gad'larr and Brezik find no indication there are any cultists still outside the gate. In fact the only remains are two more graves and the smoldering fire pit. Both find evidence that there are no more than a dozen cultists remaining. It seems the island has been even less kind with them than with yourselves.
Gad will look through the gate. Does he see anything immediately?
Convinved the camp has been abandoned Brezik creeps forward amongst the tents and places a hand over the fire trying to figure how long it's been unattended. Having no Idea he stands up as straight as he can and waves the rest of the party forward.
Belathorian stays close to Dusan and waits to hear from the 'scouts.' When it becomes apparent that there is no immediate threat he stows he crossbow and draws his scythe forth.
"I have some healing skills Dusan, if you would allow me to take a look at your leg I may be able to make you a little more comfortable?"
Dusan nods to Belathorian's question but clarifies that he wants to "keep the rot" for purposes of his stench.
Gad'larr does not see anything through the gate. It appears the path forward is a smooth winding tunnel descending into the earth.
With worry in his voice, Gad speaks to everyone.
"Looks clear. Move in quickly. Keep you eyes open for traps."
Once you enter the gates of Xin-Grafar you descend hundreds of feet into the earth through smooth, winding tunnels. After a thousand feet of underground switchbacks, you reach the city itself, situated inside a vast underground cavern.
Once through the gates of Xin-Grafar and the subterranean tunnels leading to the city, you enter a large, high-ceilinged room, the entrance to the city.
The long, sloped tunnel leading down to the city suddenly opens into a large rectangular room. The floor here is sand and shows signs of recent foot traffic. The walls are all painted in enormous murals that depict a city in its prime. The south wall shows hundreds of men and women in a marketplace, trading everything from fruit and livestock to construction materials such as brick and wood. The north wall depicts row upon row of unarmed, uniformed men standing large in the foreground and growing smaller as their ranks disappear over the horizon toward the far right of the painting—a horizon over which an enormous golden sun rises. The east wall is a huge map that portrays a city constructed of three concentric circles and divided by canals of pure, crystal-clear water that flows from the city’s innermost ring. Below this map someone has scrawled numerous notes and mathematical calculations in charcoal. Finally, the west wall depicts a leader of some sort, crowned by a golden sun and speaking before a huge crowd of people wearing white shawls and golden togas.
The notes beneath the map are scrawled in Common, and seem at first to be gibberish, with several phrases referring to the “Jewel of Everlasting Gold” and multiple descriptions of fire, floods, and molten gold.
Brezik leads the way in keeping to the walls of the tunnels, 30 ft. ahead of the party. As they enter into the room he takes his time looking for traps, ambushes, and hidden treasures.
He casts a quick look towards the four murals not taking much interest in them. Instead his attention is drawn to the tracks left by their quarry. Turning to his allies he whispers in hushed tones not wanting his voice to carry out of this room.
Looks like the Razmiran's came through here not too long ago... maybe 4 or 5 hours ago.... and they didn't take time to sight see. Their haste will prolly get them into more trouble. We should prolly keep to a steadier safer pace.
Nodding, Gad smiles agrees with Brezik's assessment.
"No doubt. Unless you all want to sight-see, we should be going."
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Vivian nods to the agreement of her two friends while looking at the murals. "Good, this stuff is unintelligible though. Must be too old, or something missing from it... maybe there's a fifth around here somewhere.."
She continues to take in their surroundings, first using her nightdrops before picking up her mace and shield again and pacing the perimeter.
Belathorian traces the scrawling notes with his finger his face getting more and more serious.
"We have about three days... then everything in the city dies. A flood of molten gold triggered by some artifact... the "Jewel of Everlasting Gold." Judging by the speed they came through here I'm guessing the Razmirans don't know this."
A thought springs to mind as Gad stand taller.
"Everlasting gold? We need to stop them before it's too late, right? Who knows what will happen if this molten gold escapes the main entrance now that the gate is open? Will it ever stop? Could it flood....the lake? The world? Irori help me find the strength, we need to get the keys back and close the gate again."
"I don't think so... enough to flood the outer two rings, the inner ring remains above the flood... so to the rest of the world?"
Brezik looks at the mural with the chalk marks... then at Beltharion.... then back at the mural... then back at Beltharion.
. If your certain that' that is what all this gobblygook means, then I guess we're on the clock. Lets go!
Brezik heads in the direction that the tracks went.
Gad swallows his fear, letting it become part of him, but not driving him as he was taught. Panic and fear helps no one directly.
"We move on then. Brezik and I scouting ahead? Keep your eyes open! Call out if you see something we don not. If Bel had not seen something the enemy did not, we would not know we are on a clock now! They are thinking of treasures, not survival of this death trap! This gives us an advantage possibly."
Drawing his sword again, Gad feels the heavy weight of the blade reassuring for some reason despite its normality.
A large doorway passes from the room of murals into the city proper. A lightly glowing green fluorescence emanates from the cavern roof above, illuminating a once-great city now reduced to ash and rubble—but whose ruins are coated entirely in gold. A large, covered bridge across a canal glows white-hot and emits a searing, golden light. In the center of the bridge stands a man-shaped statue covered in fine gold plating, its carved face eerily human-like.
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Vivian nods to Bel, "Three days, minus when they opened the doors. This could flood tomorrow for all we know."
As the continue Vivian is in awe of the eerily beautiful golden ruins. "So much gold here.. unbelievable.."
"I don't trust this... the bridge looks clear but we should engage this statue as if it we an enemy. There have been several constructs along this twisted path already." Vivian remembers the wooden golem and the creature made of masks, then adjusts her grip on her shield and clatters her mace against it as a sign of battle readiness.
"Loose formation, keep distance between you."
Gad moves as Vivian directs.
"Done. Pathfinder Dusan? Any idea what that thing is?"
"Wow, so much gold. Do you think we should take some? I mean, there's enough gold here to pay for hundreds of forts. Why no one in Kassen would ever have to work again. My folks could retire and live like kings and queens..."
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The sight of the city and all the gold amazes Allister.
"Wow... I wonder if this is where they made my gold chair?"
He is quick to fall in at his Captain's orders, but is frequently distracted by gold-plated structures and objects. "Qina, If you see anything you want, just say so. I'll carry it for you. Maybe we can find you a gold chair, too."
The anxiety of the ticking clock does not bother Allister like it does the others, but he does his best to keep up and stay on topic. "Brezik could go check it out, he's good at dealing with statues," says the paladin, smiling at his dwarf friend.
Brezik seems o notice the gold for the first time and strokes at his beard seeming to think about the implications of the piles of gold here for the first time....
I don't see why we shouldn't grab a piece or two of gold while we are here.
Then a thought seems to come to his head and he shakes it.
But we have a job first, and a limited amount of time to do it.
"Brezik could go check it out, he's good at dealing with statues," says the paladin, smiling at his dwarf friend.
Brezik gets a twinkle in his eye and looks over at Gad...
Well as I recall it was Gad'larr who so expertly kept a statue distracted in the Everflame Crypt so we could smash it. hehe
Brezik moves to the edge of the Bridge and after looking for traps laces a single foot on the bridge to see if the statue is in fact the moving sort.
Sticking close to Brezik Gad nods carefully.
"Yeah...I remember how well that went. Could that be some dead body that got caught in the last flood? But there is no gold here on the bridge. What's with the glowing? Brezik, is this a trap?"
Bel unslings his crossbow and takes aim at the statue
The shot hisses into the canal
"Worth a try..."
Bel murmurs under his breath.
As you approach the canal the temperature rises both noticeably and uncomfortably. Sweat pours from you as you approach within 50 feet of the canal, looking straight at the molten gold would probably not do you well.
The Guardian jerks up and looks in your direction on hearing your discussion and seeing Belathorian's bolt hiss away in the gold below. It raises its arms and prepares to charge!
Moving to get the creature's attention, Gad sets himself for the creature's charge. Gad positions his sword over his head and angled down in a defensive posture.